


Indelible

by Elensule



Category: Supernatural
Genre: BDSM, Dean is actually a Singer, M/M, Not actually wincest, Tattoos, non-related AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-02
Updated: 2016-07-02
Packaged: 2018-07-19 14:04:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 25,116
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7364341
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elensule/pseuds/Elensule
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean Singer runs a very successful tattoo shop.  He might be missing a relationship, his other half, but overall he's very happy with his life. He has to admit, though, the intelligent, witty librarian Sam Winchester is someone he'd rather check out and take home.</p>
<p>When Sam walks into his tattoo shop, Dean falls even harder than he had before. He didn't want to risk scaring Sam away with the needs that he doubted Sam shared, and determined to hide his desire to dominate in the bedroom. When he saw Sam at a demo, though, he realized that his unattainable friend was perhaps more attainable, and more perfect, than he'd thought.</p>
<p>For the SPN MTB challenge</p>
            </blockquote>





	Indelible

**Author's Note:**

> As always, a million thanks to Lisa for the beta. Without her, this story would not have gotten anywhere near as good as it is. Also a shout out to ZephyrChrysalis and EmberDW for stepping up to create the awesome cover for this story when my original artist had to step down. Keep your eyes open for more art, though, if my artist gets a little more free time, because I know she was working super hard and had a lot of great ideas!
> 
>  
> 
> From this prompt for the SPN Meant To Be Challenge: 
> 
> Leni Brewster should have been disappointed when her twin sister had to bail on holding her hand during her first tattoo, but going to her appointment solo means time alone with the sexy-as-hell tattoo artist who falls into the Do Not Touch category. Only Jamie Rodriguez isn't as off-limits as Leni thinks. Privately single for months, Jamie finds himself more than looking forward to having the hot little librarian in his chair. And when she accidentally reveals a naughty secret about herself, he can't get his hands on her fast enough-he has to know what else she's hiding under that buttoned-up exterior. What he discovers sets his blood to boiling, igniting a burning determination to test every single one of the boundaries, both personal and physical, that she's set for herself.

Dean stepped out of Baby after he pulled into the library parking lot, grabbing his backpack so he could return his most recently borrowed treasures. The marble architecture, with its pillars and broad steps, was probably meant to be inspiring. At least, that was what Dean had always assumed. When he’d first moved to St. Paul, he had to admit that it had taken his breath away. Its wide doors had seemed more imposing than welcoming, and it had taken a while to acclimate to students on break and busy office workers on their lunch being in the library when Dean was. Eventually, though, the desire for new books overcame his discomfort.

Dean liked to read. Most people wouldn’t guess that; the stereotype of a tattoo artist really didn’t lend itself to being an avid reader. Dean smirked to himself as he ascended the steps. He had never claimed to be an intellectual, but he’d always loved the escape of getting to go to another world in a story. Lately, though, it was neither the architecture nor the books, really, that brought him to St. Paul’s Central library. 

Six months ago, in the dead of winter, a ray of sunshine had descended into the center of Minnesota. Over six feet tall, with shaggy brown hair that Dean longed to bury his fingers in and brown eyes that seemed to be the epitome of the term ‘puppy dog’, Sam Winchester was to librarians what leather bound anthologies were to e-books. That is to say, he was the real deal, and damn, did Dean want him in his bedroom.

Dean stepped over the threshold and into one of his favorite places. The marble kept the library cool, an insulating chill compared to summer’s dry heat radiating from the city pavement. It was refreshing, and Dean paused to take a deep breath. No musty smell; the books were clean and inviting, rows and rows of new experiences for the taking.

“Hey.”

Dean looked up at the deceptively soft voice, still echoing faintly in the vast space. Sam Winchester was the definition of a gentle giant.

Sam watched from his computer as Dean came through the door and headed toward the returns desk. Managing the St. Paul Central Library was a dream come true, and he still couldn't entirely believe he'd gotten the job. He knew he wouldn't have if it hadn't been for Anika, his Master's advisor, who had used her connections to get him an interview. The cool marble room had become home, as so many other libraries had been. Ever since he was four years old and his mother took him to the children's reading corner for the first time, he'd loved books. That love had only grown through his time in the education system, until he’d decided on a Master’s in Library Science, so he could be surrounded by them forever.

In the six months since he'd taken over the Head Reference position, Sam had come to recognize his regulars. Miss Jones, who had never married and wore that fact proudly any time she was asked about grandchildren. Lily Thomas, the fourth grader who reminded Sam of himself at that age, forever in and asking about this author or that one, and had Sam heard that whales ate nearly _eight thousand pounds_ of krill a _day_ during the summer mating months? And, of course, Dean Singer. The man was sex on legs, even if that was an opinion Sam tried to keep to himself. He came in three times a week, like clockwork, and had for most of the time Sam had been working at the library. He invariably wore solid black leather motorcycle boots polished to a shine that made Sam's mouth water, and a black leather jacket that, while old, obviously was meticulously managed.

Dean carried himself like a man on a mission. No one stood in his way, and he spoke like someone who expected to be obeyed. The first time he'd come in, he'd come to the desk with a stack to return that rivaled Sam's own. Authors from nearly every genre; mystery, horror, fantasy, all seemed to have an equal place on Dean Singer's reading list.

They'd started to talk while Sam checked the books back in, and Sam was pleased to discover that Dean was as articulate as he was well-read. He had an opinion on everything, and never hesitated to defend his thoughts. Dean had asked for recommendations on what he should check out next, and had returned a few days later to debate the finer points of the plot. Frankly, their discussions had become the highpoint of Sam's week.

Sam fiddled with the black paracord bracelet around his wrist. It was hidden by his shirt cuff, which made it fairly useless as the symbol that he wanted it to be, but then he wasn't exactly looking to be picked up at work, anyway. Dean was back, and it was a mighty struggle not to stare at the wide leather belt Sam could see peeking through his belt loops. "Back already, Dean?" It was refreshing to meet someone who read as fast as he did; it gave him someone to discuss the newest best sellers with almost as soon as they came in.

Dean grinned that heartbreaking grin that had Sam reminding himself that he did not want to be picked up by library patrons. He ignored the little voice in his head that told him that he was a lying liar who lies and most definitely did want Dean to pick him up.

"You know it, Sammy. These were really good." He pulled his battered backpack off his shoulder and removed the five books he'd taken out the last time he'd visited. "You know, I never really thought of Chrichton as that versatile of an author, but I really enjoyed Rising Sun."

Sam pulled a face. "How many times do I have to tell you, it's Sam, not Sammy?" He never protested too loudly, though, because a small part of him thrilled at the idea that Dean felt they were familiar enough for a nickname.

Dean laughed and waved his hand. "Yeah, yeah... So I didn't really expect him to nail the geopolitical stuff. He did a great job with the murder mystery part of it." He leaned down onto the desk, into Sam's personal space. Sam didn't lean back. "It still didn't hold a candle to Timeline, though. Can't argue with time travel."

"What?" Sam's attention was drawn away from the black leather suddenly in his space by Dean's outrageous comment. "You think time travel beats a geopolitical murder mystery?" He shook his head. "Maybe you don't have the quality of taste I thought you had."

Dean laughed. "Don't get me wrong, dude. It was a good book. But c'mon. Time travel. The dude practically becomes his own ancestor! It's like something out of Futurama or something." He shook his head. "It's trippy, that's all I'm saying." He straightened up a little. "But if you don't like it, don't read it. Who would you suggest?"

"I'm not saying that I wouldn't read it," Sam retorted, trying not to snort. It was hard not to get indignant with Dean. The man made him antsy in a way that no one else did. "Just that it's not my favorite. There's lots of good mystery out there, and as far as fantasy goes... Come on, man, he puts himself in the past. He digs up his own grave! How ridiculous can you get?"

 

Dean grinned broadly, like he'd been trying nothing more than to rile Sam up the whole time. "That's half the fun. I mean, when I read that kind of thing, I'm not looking for reality. That's why it's called fantasy." He chuckled. "So c'mon. Who am I reading next? I'm thinking fantasy. I think that I'm all geopolitical-murder-mystery-thrillered out for now."

"Hmm." Sam stepped back to tuck the books under the counter to the bin for reshelving later. "Well, if you're going fantasy, I still can't believe you haven't read Game of Thrones yet. I mean, George R. R. Martin is just a giant right now." He reached over for his computer and typed quickly. "Looks like we've got a couple copies in yet. And they're pretty solid books, too. Might take you longer than a day to read," he said teasingly.

"Well, maybe it's time to give it a shot." Dean leaned in again. He hadn't had as much fun flirting in a long time as he had with Sam these last few months. "You haven't lead me wrong yet." It was on the tip of his tongue to ask when Sam was off. Every time he came in, he tempted himself with the idea. Something about Sam was almost dangerous.

He imagined those long, lean lines of his body stretched out across Dean's bed. He'd be gorgeous crisscrossed in black leather. Sam's shirts hugged his body just right to hint at muscles that Dean dreamed of tracing with fingers or tongue. To make Sam jump with surprise, and maybe just the right amount of pain. Red lines across his back that he could tease and soothe. Dean leaned back, his throat dry, both at the mental image, and at what it suggested. It had been a really, really long time since he'd been on a first date, and longer since he had been on the prowl for someone who might be interested in what he had to offer. What he needed. He shook his head and straightened up. "I'll, uh, be back in a minute," he said. He pulled himself back from the counter. He needed the time to reel himself in.

"Oh, sure." If Sam noticed Dean's momentary change in demeanor, he didn't comment. An older woman had come up behind Dean, and when Dean left the counter, she immediately took his place and began asking questions. 

Dean took his time in the fantasy section, catching his breath and forcing down that desire. After all, Sam might flirt back a little bit, but that certainly didn't mean he was actually interested in Dean. Dean flirted with lots of people who weren't his type.

He found the copy of A Song of Ice and Fire and picked it up. On a whim he grabbed a few more books that caught his eye at random, just something else to fill his time with. Not that he had tons of time, but reading had always been one of his favorite de-stressing activities. Especially before he was old enough to know about his actual favorite de-stressing activity.

Back at the desk, Sam had no line. Dean dropped his books on the counter, flirty smile back in place. "I know you said I couldn't read it in two days." And, well, Sam was probably right. It was a ridiculous book in trade paperback. The hardback was probably legally classed as a weapon. "But I like my contingency plans." He passed the books across and pulled his keys from his pocket. "I left my wallet at home today, can you believe it? Thank goodness for key fob cards."

Sam took the jangling keys, and his eyes drifted to the other keychains dangling. A bottle opener, a little piece of leather that he couldn't immediately identify, but nevertheless seemed very Dean, a small dangling black car. Sam scanned the card, and his breath hitched as he passed them back. A small circle had caught his eye. At first he thought it was a ying-yang, but as it spun he realized it was something much more specific. That Dean would carry a BDSM symbol so openly really put his personality into focus. And all that leather? Damn, it made a hell of a lot more sense now. Still, he was a scientist at heart, and all good hypotheses need testing before being accepted.

"There you go, sir," Sam said deliberately, pushing the books back across to Dean. He watched carefully out of the corner of his eye, and saw Dean startle a little bit. 

"Sir?" Dean's voice was ever so slightly rough when he answered Sam. "What happened to 'Dean', Sammy?" He took his books and tucked them into his backpack, surprised to see a hint of a blush on Sam's cheeks. He couldn't... No. He swung his bag over his shoulder.

"Oh, ah." Sam's grin this time was just a little shaky. "Forgot who I was talking to." He passed Dean the receipt that printed out for his books. "These are due back in two weeks. Enjoy, Dean."

"I will," Dean said, though this time his gaze was assessing. He nodded to Sam as he shoved the receipt into his pocket. "And hey, thanks for the rec. I look forward to getting started." 

"Any time," Sam agreed, smiling. He let his eyes drift over Dean as he turned and headed out. Sam’s heart was pounding at the implications from their interaction. Damn it. He was so fucked.

 

Dean dropped his backpack on the passenger seat as he slid behind Baby's wheel. Slamming the door shut, he blew out a long breath. Damn. /How did he do that?/ The memory of Sam passing his books over was running through his mind. That "sir" had felt so deliberate. So right. Dangerous. Sam Winchester was dangerous. There was no way he knew what he was doing to Dean. He couldn't!

Dean started Baby and carefully pulled out of the parking lot. There could be time for freak outs later, because Jo would shoot him if he was late again. That didn't mean that the thought of Sam on his knees, Dean's collar around his throat, didn't send a bolt of heat through Dean. And if that was followed by a wave of guilt? Well. Nobody had to know.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Dean. That’s the third time this week.” Jo’s voice was more amused than disapproving as she watched Dean drop his book bag behind his desk. “Why don’t you just ask him out already?”

Dean frowned exaggeratedly, shaking his head as he dropped into his chair. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he answered primly. “I just finished the books I had, and Sam thought that I might enjoy George R.R. Martin, that’s all.”

“Uh-huh.” Jo was unimpressed. _”Sam_ thought you’d like him. Dean, I’ve been telling you to read _Song of Ice and Fire_ for literally _two years_.” She hopped up on his desk, ignoring his disgruntled protest so she could plant a booted foot on either side of his legs, locking his chair in place facing her. “So I’m gonna ask you again. Why don’t you just ask him out already?”

He slumped in defeat, recognizing when he couldn’t get one over on her. He’d known better anyway; his little sister was like a dog with a bone when she set her mind to something. It was easier just to give in. “Look, I don’t even know if he likes guys. And trust me, I’ve got enough self-confidence to know I’m hot.” Jo snorted, but Dean soldiered on. “But I’m not his type.”

“You just told me you don’t know if he likes guys.” Jo raised an eyebrow. “So how do you know you’re not his type?” 

“Because he’s a librarian!” Dean shoved back, the chair rolling away from the desk leaving Jo’s feet dangling. “And I am not librarian-boyfriend material.”

There was a beat of silence, and then Jo cracked up. “Dean Singer, look at you! Judging by appearances? _You?_ ”

Dean blushed. “Well, c’mon, Jo! I mean, he works in a _library_ , he has a _Master’s degree_ , and I’m a tatted up worn out punk who runs a tattoo shop.” He shook his head. “I’m fine with admiring from afar, thank you very much.”

Jo dropped off the desk, shaking her head. “Whatever. Pine from afar. I’ve got a sketch to finish for my appointment at three. Don’t forget mom and dad want us to come for dinner tonight.”

“I know, I know… It’s the first Tuesday of the month. I haven’t forgotten in like, five years.” He stuck his tongue out at his sister as he pulled open his own pencil case and flipped to the sketch he was working on. A few minutes later, some Zep started blasting over the speakers from the back as Jo turned on the stereo. Dean let himself be swept away with the music, losing himself in the sketch.

The door tinkled as it opened. “Be with you in one sec,” Dean called, focusing on finishing the line he was sketching. Looking up, his mouth went dry. Sam Winchester, Hot Librarian, stood in the lobby of his tattoo shop. _He_ was here, but he was wearing a Nirvana tee shirt and jeans instead of his usual button-up over slacks. The change made Dean’s mouth go dry. He cleared his throat to get himself back on track, standing from his desk and heading to the front. “What can I do for you, Sam?”

“Oh!” Sam grinned. “I didn’t know you worked here, dude. Awesome.”

“Yeah.” Pride welled in Dean’s chest, as it always did when he talked about the shop. “Me and my sister, started it a couple years ago.” He chuckled faintly, leaning on the registration desk. “Gotta admit, I wouldn’t have expected to see you in my shop. What can I do for you today?”

“Your shop, huh?” Sam sounded impressed. “You never told me you own your own business.” He leaned against the counter as well, and Dean’s heart skipped a beat as Sam leaned into his personal space. “That’s awesome. Actually, I feel a lot more comfortable now. I mean, I’d seen some of your work, when I was researching local shops. Plus, my friend Gabriel comes here, and his pieces are seriously impressive.” He flashed that heartbreaking smile, and Dean’s mouth went dry. “But knowing I actually _know_ you really helps.”

“Well, cool.” Dean smiled back, helpless to stop himself even if he wanted to. “Gabriel… Short guy, eats too much candy?” He chuckled when Sam nodded. “Ah, cool… Yeah, I did his sword. That was a fun piece to draw. So. What are you thinkin’ of?”

“Oh, right.” Sam’s eyes lit up, excited. “Well, I’ve been planning a sleeve for a long time. On my right leg, I'm thinking I want to start with my thigh. I want to honor the literary references that, well, got me to where I am today.” 

“A sleeve?” Dean’s eyes widened. “That’s… a hell of a commitment.”

“Yeah, I know.” Sam nodded seriously. “I wanted to get settled before I started, because the best sleeves are all with one artist.” He reached into his pocket, and pulled out a folded piece of paper. “This is Howl… I read it for the first time when I was a Junior in high school. That was the first time words made me feel something _concrete_ , like I was out of breath just reading it.” He smiled wistfully as he passed the paper across to Dean. “So, I know it’s kinda cliche, but it just _feels_ right. I want a wolf, maybe just a head? Howling. But there’s a lot of fire imagery in the poem, so I was hoping you could make him flaming. Or maybe a wolf head coming out of a flame? I’m pretty flexible, really… That’s why I brought you the poem. For inspiration.”

“Hmm…” It wasn’t the first time Dean had been asked to draw something based on a passage for inspiration, though it _was_ the first time he’d never heard of the passage in question. Usually it was something Tolkein, or “The Road Not Taken.” He unfolded the paper, skimming part of it quickly. It _was_ different. He smiled again, looking up. “Cool. I think I can make something work, dude… I appreciate you giving me the poem to work from. A lot of people just want quotes, and that’s way harder, as an artist.”

“Oh, I know. And really, for me, the sleeve is about the art as much as it is the inspiration. I wanted to pick an artist that can really showcase the pieces.” He smiled again, and Dean told himself firmly that it was _not_ flirty. “I’m really glad I picked you.”

"Me too." Dean flushed faintly, and briefly rolled his tongue ring between his teeth while he considered his schedule (and definitely _not_ how gorgeous that smile was), before pulling out the book. "How's next week look?"

"Umm, I'm off Thursday for working Saturday, do you have anything Thursday?"

"As it turns out, I've got a couple hours free in the evening. Can you do four?" 

"Sure can.” Sam bounced a little on his toes, clearly excited.

“Great!” Dean smiled warmly and pulled a form out of his book to pass across the desk. “Just fill this out for me, name, phone number, brief description of what we discussed, to jog my memory. I'll shoot you a text with some sketches when I've got something together."

Sam filled it out quickly, outlining what they'd just discussed. He added his email address and a cell number, then slid it back. “That sounds great. And, hey, I can’t believe we never exchanged numbers, with how often we talk at the library.” He pressed the paper into Dean’s hand. “So, you know, you can feel free to text me once you start those books, let me know how you feel about Mr. Martin.”

Dean swallowed, a flirty grin breaking out across his lips. “Well thank you. I think I will.” He pressed his tongue against the piercing in his lip, toying with the little ball inside before he reached to shake Sam’s hand. “I’ll be in touch. Make sure you shave the area before you come in, that way it’ll be smooth when you get here.””

“Great. Ah… Great.” Was Sam… nervous? No, he was reading into it. “Well.” He rubbed one big hand across the back of his neck, then rubbed his hands on his knees. Dean’s eyes fixated on the black paracord cuff on Sam’s wrist. Could it mean?

_Wishful thinking, Singer,_ he chastised himself.

“Well, awesome. I can’t wait. I’ve gotta get going, though, I’m meeting a friend for coffee. But, I look forward to hearing from you, Dean.”

Dean nodded back, finding his voice a moment later. "Sure thing, Sam. Thanks for stopping by." He allowed himself to linger and watch Sam’s ass as he wandered out the door. Damn, that was a nice ass.

“Was that who I think it was?” Jo’s voice was _very_ close behind him, and Dean jumped while his sister dissolved in laughter.

“Jesus Christ, Jo… Don’t do that!” Dean spun, shaking a finger at her. “Anyway. Yes, that _was_ Sam. He’s looking to start a sleeve.” He preened a little at the thought that Sam wanted a sleeve, and he wanted it all _Dean’s_ work. 

“Oh really?” Jo’s smirk took on a knowing look. “So… You gonna do it?"

"Of course I am. He's got a cool idea, and seems open to suggestion. I'm looking forward to it."

"Looking forward to having him in your chair for hours, you mean." Jo slapped Dean's arm and shook her head. "Well, have fun with that. Maybe you'll grow a pair while you're at it, and actually ask him out."”

“I’m not that unprofessional,” Dean said with a glower. “Anyway, you know it wouldn’t work out.”

Jo heaved another sigh. “I didn’t say _sleep with him_ , Dean. You can have dinner without getting into his pants.”

“That’s not it!” Dean shook his head. “It’s just… What’s the point? If I’m not going to date them, why would I put in the effort?”

"Because you are depressing me," Jo said, thoroughly unamused. "Maybe if you went on a couple dates, or made a profile on Fetlife, or _something_ , you'd figure out what you want."

"Ok, Doctor Phil. Thanks for the advice." Dean pointedly picked up his pencil, turning back to his desk. "I'll take it into consideration. Now, if you'll excuse me, I've got a sketch to work on."

Jo’s voice softened. “You know he wouldn’t want this for you,” she said, patting Dean’s arm gently. “Seriously. I know you love him, but it’s time to move on.” She stepped away from the desk, graciously ignoring the way Dean’s breath caught at the reminder. “Just… Think about it.”

Dean gripped his pencil tightly, closing his eyes against the tears that threatened. Damn it. It had been _years_ , why did it continue to hurt so bad? He swallowed hard and took a deep breath. It took some effort to focus back on the paper in front of him. Jo might be right, but that didn’t mean Dean was ready to move on, no matter how long Cas had been gone.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

2\. Graffiti

Sam dropped his bag on the chair in the living room, groaning as he flopped onto the couch. 

“Long day?” 

His roommate Gabriel’s voice came from behind him, and Sam startled slightly. “Jesus, dude, do you have to do that?” He shook his head and let his head flop backward. “Anyway. No. It wasn’t. It was just… I went in for my tattoo consult today.”

“Really? That’s awesome!” Gabriel flipped one leg over the arm of the couch, dropping down beside Sam and taking a big lick of a lollipop. “So why the sigh? Having second thoughts?”

“No, nothing like that. But _Dean_ was the artist that I had my appointment with!” He slapped Gabriel’s leg, annoyed. “Why didn’t you tell me that was his shop!”

“What? _Dean_? Hot, tattooed Dean, who keeps taking every book you offer him at the library?” Gabriel nudged Sam with one elbow grinning. “Awesome! I totally didn’t realize they were the same guy. But, hey! You get to be with him for _hours_! Isn’t that _good_ news?”

Sam stretched, then toed his shoes the rest of the way off. “Of course it is,” he said, narrowing his eyes. “But damn… I don’t even know if he’s into guys. Man, this is gonna be _torture!_ ”

Gabriel laughed and stood up, patting Sam’s arm. “The best kind, buddy. Best kind. Okay well hey, pizza should be here soon. I’ve gotta work on my project for Childhood Development, my advisor will _kill me_ if I’m late again.” He swung Sam’s bag over into the space he’d just vacated. “And don’t you have a post you’re supposed to get up tonight? You shouldn’t leave your fans waiting.”

“Right. Yeah. I should get to work, too.” He liked his work at the library, but _Purple Haze_ , his advice-column-cum-opinion-blog gave him a personal thrill. It was the challenge of research without a grade attached. Pulling his laptop out of his bag, he flipped it open and pulled up his word doc. He’d promised his readers that he’d have a post up about informed consent and safe words, especially as they related to first time meetings in clubs. 

He’d done most of his research over the weekend, but compiling it was always the hardest part. He’d lost himself in phrasing and rephrasing, when the buzzer sounded. He jolted, but Gabe’s voice came out of the back bedroom office they shared, muffled through the door. “Can you get the pizzas, dude? It’s paid for.”

“Oh, yeah,” Sam shouted back, disentangling himself from his laptop and jogging to the door. He pressed the buzzer. “Down in a sec,” he said, before jogging down the hall. It only took a minute to jog down two floors, sign for the pizzas and jog back up, but that was enough time for his stomach to remind him that it was nearly seven at night, and he hadn’t eaten since eight that morning. 

“Gabe, get out here!” Sam shouted as he dropped the pizza boxes onto the coffee table and headed to the kitchen for beers and paper plates. By the time he was back, Gabe had already opened one of the boxes and was chewing on a messy slice of barbeque chicken and pineapple pizza. Sam pulled a face and shoved a paper plate under the monstrosity before Gabe managed to drip sauce on the couch.

“Thanks for the pizza, dude,” he said, dropping down beside him and popping open his own box. He pulled out two slices of the veggie lover and cracked open his beer. “How’s the project going?”

“Oh, going,” Gabe said around a mouthful of pizza. At Sam’s glare, he swallowed hard and then started again. “It’s going. I think I’ll have my draft done tonight. I should, anyway.” He nodded to Sam’s laptop on the chair. “And you? How’s the blog post going?”

“I’m almost done,” Sam said, after he finished chewing and swallowing. “Just a conclusion paragraph, I think. I really like how this one turned out, though. It’s important for people to know _how_ to talk about consent. It can be a weird thing to bring up, I think.”

“Sometimes it can, yeah,” Gabe agreed around another bite of his pizza. He ignored Sam’s glare this time, chewing away without restraint. “So how was your consult?” He grinned. “After you told me it was Dean you didn’t give me any more details.”

“Oh, yeah… Well, he agreed that the wolf sounds like a good start to a sleeve, so he’s going to draw that up. It’s going to have its mouth open, probably, and somehow fire will be involved. I’m kind of leaving it up to him, though. I looked at his profile and his work is awesome, so I’m just gonna wait and see what he comes up with.”

“Cool, cool.” Gabe’s own arms had bright ink up and down them. He was no stranger to letting the artist have their way. “That sounds great. So… You gonna ask him out?” He gave his eyebrows a lascivious wiggle. “I know you’ve been working up to it, man. I’m telling you, someone as pretty as Dean, he’s gotta be into guys too.”

Sam slapped Gabriel on the shoulder, chuckling as he yelped. “Dude! You’re awful. Anyway, I’m sure he gets hit on all the time. I want him to do the whole sleeve, man. I don’t wanna be _that guy_ , you know?” 

Gabe sighed, rolling his eyes. “Well, fine…” He stood up, wiping his hands on his pants. He grabbed his beer and tipped it toward Sam. “But if you’re not going to ask him, you should at _least_ think about going to my Meetup group with me. Or something. You need to get out of the house, man.” He clapped Sam on the shoulder. “Think about it.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Sam waved him away. “Go finish your project. I’ll see you later. Don’t forget that Batman comes on at ten. You better be finished by then, you told me you’d watch it with me.”

“Sure, sure.” Gabe shot one more slightly concerned look at Sam before he headed out of the room. 

Sam finished his pizza and then closed both boxes, heading to put them in the fridge for later. He sighed, glancing down the hall where Gabe sat in his office working. Sam had never thought there was anything wrong with really only having one friend; he and Gabe had grown up next door to one another, had been inseparable for a long time. But here in the city, it was clear that Sam and Gabe had very separate lives. Gabe was out at some meet or another almost every night, in between his grad school work and his actual job. Sam, by contrast, went to work and then came home, like clockwork. Actually, deciding to go to the tattoo parlor on his way home, and meet Meg for coffee after she got off her shift at the library, had significantly derailed his night. 

He detoured away from the living room to go change into sweats and a tee shirt before he finished the blog post. That always signalled his brain that it was time to relax; being out among people all day always seemed to drain him, and it felt so much better with the cue to just chill. Heading back to the couch, he jumped right back into his post. After all, on the rare nights when he and Gabe actually _did_ get to hang out, he didn’t want to miss a minute.

3\. Etch

“Ooh, Purple Haze posted a new column last night!” Jo grinned across the room at her brother, tapping away at her laptop for a second. “D’ you want me to read it out loud?” 

Dean looked up from his sketch; the couple getting it done would be in soon, and he really didn't want the distraction, but he did like Purple Haze. "What's the topic this week?" Sometimes he really appreciated that his little sister was on the fringes of the Scene. Weird as it was, sometimes, at least he knew she was safe to talk to. 

"Consent, especially for one night hook ups." She skimmed down the article. "Wow. He really must know the club scene. There's some really good advice here….” She cleared her throat. “Don’t ever go home with a stranger without letting someone know where you’ll be. I’m not saying don’t hook up, but it’s a bad idea to leave a bar without someone on the outside knowing your whereabouts.”

Jo looked up at Dean and grinned. “Man, where was this guy when you were in college and ditching town every weekend to party with Garth and his crew?” 

“Oh, shut up, Jo.” Dean balled up a post-it from his desk and flicked it across the room. It hit her shoulder and he grinned triumphantly. “Not like you and Anna Milton didn’t disappear for weeks at a time. Gave mom and dad some serious heart attacks.” He shook his head. “What else does he say?”

“Hmmm…” Jo scrolled down the article. “Ooh. ‘It can be tempting to say you’re going to play without a safe word. I’m gonna tell you right now. _Don’t._. Doesn’t matter how long you’ve known your partner, or how many times you’ve Scened before. Pick. A. Fucking. Safeword. And it better be something you’ll remember, that you’re not afraid to say out loud. If you’re doing anything that could impede your voice, make sure you have a non-verbal signal. It could break up your sexy times, but better that than your life.’ Man.” Jo shook her head. “I’m really glad he’s on our side.”

Dean snorted. “Yeah, yeah. He’s a good guy… I swear, you’ve got a crush on him.” He inked in another line then looked up. “Come take a look at this. Benny wanted some really old school stuff, and I haven’t done any for a while. What do you think?”

Jo stood and leaned over Dean’s shoulder. “Ooh… I like the sparrows! Those are awesome. Is it going to be full color?”

“Not really.” Dean shook his head. “It’s going to be black, mostly,, but he wants red highlights.” He pointed to the sparrows at the top of the compass, and the roses along the bottom. “The rest of it will just be black and gray, with their names at the top and bottom.”

“That’ll be awesome, Dean.” She leaned in and kissed her brother’s temple. “I’m glad you got to talk to Benny; I know Andrea was telling me that they miss you at the club.” _Both of you_ went unsaid, but Dean heard it anyway.

“I can’t do it, Jo. It’ s just too much.” He hunched his shoulders and blew out a shaky breath. “Look. I know. It drives me crazy, too, and I know Cas wouldn’t want me lingering like this.” He swallowed. “I just. Every time I think about going to the club, or picking someone up, it makes me sick.”

Jo sighed, squeezing Dean’s shoulder. “I know. I get it. But, Dean, you’ll never _get_ back out there if you don’t do something. I’m not saying you should take another Sub, or do anything sexual. But, hell. Sam likes you. Trust me, I’ve got eyes.” She smiled reassuringly. “Take him out for dinner, discuss some books. And, please. Go back to The Tannery… Just to talk. They’re your _friends_ , Dean.”

Dean nodded, giving his sister a shaky smile, detesting showing so much weakness. “When’d you get so smart, kid? Maybe you’re right.” He squeezed her hand, then gave her a little shove. “Now g’wan. I need to finish this sketch if we’re gonna make the Thursday night demonstration.” He grinned. 

Jo let out a little whoop and clapped Dean on the shoulder. “Sounds good,” she said before heading toward her own desk. 

 

4\. 

Dean’s boots felt good. They felt _damn_ good. No, he wasn’t planning on Scening with anyone, but it had been way too long since he’d gotten to wear them, and they were sadly neglected. Rubbing the polish into them, making the leather shiny and supple again, had been almost cathartic. Every swipe of the cloth reminded him of the man who had done this last; Cas had been more than meticulous. Actually, Dean thought that Cas might have liked Dean’s boots more than Dean himself did.

Dean blew out a slow breath. Once upon a time he wouldn’t have been alone in Baby as he parked in front of The Tannery. Next to him, Cas would have been sitting, practically vibrating with excitement as much as Dean was. His collar would have gleamed lowly in the streetlights coming through the window, and Dean would have walked into the club with his head held high. Now he was alone, but somehow it didn’t feel as empty as he expected. From the corner of his eye, he could almost see Cas sitting beside him. Encouraging him. 

Dean slid out of the car. Head held high, just like Cas would have wanted him to, he crossed the parking lot. The strap at his waist, as much a part of him as his boots, was a reassuring weight on his thigh. Opening the door felt like coming home; the scents of leather and sweat mingling with a thumping beat that was just enough to be distracting.

“Dean Singer! Where have you _been_ , boy?” Rufus’ voice boomed out from behind the desk, warm and just a little bit chastising. He sat behind the wooden partition, every bit the Dom Dean remembered. The leather crisscrossing his chest gleamed as he held out a hand. 

“Sir,” Dean took his hand, shaking it firmly. “It’s… Been a while. Had to get my head back on straight.” 

“And is it screwed back tight?” Rufus’ voice was knowing. He looked Dean over assessingly as Dean nodded. 

“I think so.” Dean leaned on the counter. “I’m not.” He hesitated a little. “Not here for anybody, or anything in particular. But it’s come to my attention that I’ve been holding myself back for reasons that really only hurt me.” He smiled a little bit, wistful. “It was time to come home.”

“Damn straight.” Rufus pulled out the guest list, skimming down the VIP section until he found Dean’s name. He checked him off, and then held his hand out to Dean’s to shake. “Well, it’s good to see you, boy.” He squeezed Dean’s hand. “If you want to play, and you need another set of eyes…” He trailed off. 

“You’ll be the first person I call,” Dean agreed. “I don’t need a bracelet tonight, though. I’m just here to… visit.” A weight fell off his shoulders. He didn’t have any plans to play, but it was good to know that the man he trusted most with this part of himself would be watching. 

“Good. Get on in there; I know Benny and Andrea are going to be running the demonstration tonight.”

“Oh, awesome.” Dean put his hand on the heavy door. The thump of the music on the other side felt like a heartbeat. He hadn’t walked through that door alone in half a decade, but the weight of Rufus’ gaze gave him the strength to turn the handle.

As soon as the door opened the sound of the music expanded, filling the small anteroom. Beyond the music, Dean heard familiar sounds he hadn’t quite realized how badly he’d missed. The creak of bindings stressed to their limits, an occasional crack of a strap or belt. He took in a deep breath, the scents of leather and a hint of smoke hitting him with the force of a slap. The wave of a nostalgia propelled him into the dimmer space, toward the bar. He had no intention of getting drunk, but something to take the edge off, to hold in his hand in the absence of Cas’ shoulder beneath his palm, was a necessity.

“Just a coke,” Dean said as he sat at the bar. A beer later, maybe,if he still felt like visiting after Benny and Andrea’s demo. The bartender passed the cup over and took the ten that Dean put on the bar. As Dean pocketed his change, someone settled next to him.

“Dean Singer, as I live and breathe!” The familiar voice was warm and excited, and Dean turned toward it.

“Garth… It’s good to see you.” Dean held out a hand and Garth shook it firmly. The other Dom had been a friend, like so many at The Tannery, who Dean had shut out after Cas passed. Jo had never approved, and Dean suspected she had passed on some of his information, after the funeral. 

“You too, man.” Garth used their handshake to pull Dean in for a hug, and for a moment, Dean froze. Then he let himself be hugged. Garth always had been tactile. He hugged back for a long moment, and when he pulled away, he noticed a demure woman, about their age, standing quietly behind Garth’s stool. “Oh… Who’s this?”

Garth’s smile broadened, which, up until that moment, Dean would have said was physically impossible. “Oh, yes. You haven’t met.” He held out a hand, and the woman stepped forward. Garth cupped a hand warmly around the back of her neck, and she dropped her head with a small smile.

“Dean, this is my lovely Submissive, Donna.” His thumb rubbed a gentle circle on the nape of her neck before he lifted his free hand to indicate Dean. “Donna, this is my very good friend, Dean.” 

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Sir,” Donna said, bowing her head briefly. In the light, she looked somewhat uncomfortable under Dean’s scrutiny, or perhaps at Garth’s praise. A flush crept up her neck, and down her chest toward the swooping cut of her leather and lace corset.

Dean smiled broadly. “Likewise,” he agreed. He glanced at Garth before extending his hand toward Donna. She waited for Garth’s approving nod before she took it, shaking once, firmly. “Garth, you always did have exquisite taste,” Dean said as he settled back onto his stool properly.

Donna blushed, and Garth drew her against his side as he settled as well. “Thank you, Dean. Donna has been a real blessing; I’m a lucky, lucky man.”

Dean’s heart skipped a beat as a pang of jealousy went through him. He kept the charming smile on his face; he was genuinely happy for Garth, and he wasn’t about to let his own issues taint it. “I can see that. Can I get you two a drink? On me.” He flagged down the bartender without waiting for an answer, earning a chuckle from Garth.

“That would be great. I’d like just a coke, thanks. Donna? You still drinkin’ ice tea, babe?”

“Yes, Sir,” Donna agreed. “Unsweet. I still have some of my Splenda packets.” She reached into the pocket of her jeans, tugging free two yellow packets. Dean raised an eyebrow, impressed that the small packets survived so well in such tight jeans, but didn’t let his eyes linger where they might not be welcome. He hadn’t been around Garth for a while, and didn’t quite remember how much showing off his friend liked to do.

“Good girl,” Garth praised, drawing a darker blush to her cheeks again as she placed the packets on his outstretched hand. The bartender brought the drinks, and Garth mixed up the iced tea while Dean paid. 

“So how have you been, Dean?” Garth sipped his coke, leaning casually back against the bar. He held Donna close, his hand creeping up her back to toy gently with her hair; she melted against him in a way that made Dean’s mouth dry with the aching _loss_ of it all. 

“I’ve been, ah, I’ve been good.” Dean focused on Garth, and took another swig of his coke. “Jo made me realize it was time to come back.” And really, he had missed it. He’d missed the sounds, and the smells, and the companionship. 

“Well, it’s about time. It really hasn’t been the same without you.” He turned to Donna, tipping his coke toward Dean. “Dean was one of my mentors when I first got started around here. You can thank him for teaching me my way around a flogger.” He set his coke on the bar, shifting so he could pull Donna closer with both arms around her waist. “We met at my first munch, and the rest is, as they say, history.”

Donna’s eyes widened in recognition. “Oh… You’re _that_ Dean? Jo’s Dean? She talks about you all the time, Sir.” She smiled. “I’ve heard really nice things about your art; Jo showed me the piece on her arm that you did. Really lovely.” She glanced at Garth, taking his wide grin for assent. “I’ve been thinking of getting a piece, for a while now. Something to symbolize the ‘Thin Blue Line’. My whole family has been cops for a long time. “

“Oh… That could be really interesting.” If there was one thing Dean liked to discuss, it was his art. “Sure thing. I’m sure Garth knows where the shop is; I’m in pretty much every day, except Wednesdays. I’d be happy to sketch something up for you.”

Donna grinned. “Gee, that sounds great!” She sipped her tea, but further discussion was cut off when the lights flashed once. “Oooh… Benny and Andrea are going to have their demo now!” She squirmed on Garth’s knee until they faced the center of the room. “They’ve been talking about this for days…”

“What are they demoing?” Dean shifted, curious. “I haven’t seen anything at all, recently.”

“Benny and Andrea are doing shibari,” Garth said, voice softer now that the music was quieter. That was one thing Dean had always enjoyed about The Tannery. While there was plenty of play space for those who brought a partner, those who had the most experience volunteered regularly to do educational demonstrations. As a novice, Dean had found it enlightening, and now that he was much more experienced, it had often felt like a way to give back to the community that had given him so much.

“Ooh, awesome.” Dean leaned back against the bar, watching over the heads of the now seated club patrons. “Benny is a good teacher.”

In the center of the floor, on the raised platform, Benny was laying out coils of soft looking rope on a table. Beside him, his sub Andrea knelt quietly, her head bowed. Meditative. Benny crossed the dias several times, to lay out a candle, a feather, a small bowl. With each pass he stroked a long touch along Andrea’s shoulders. Finally, he turned to look at the gathered crowd. “Hullo,” he began conversationally. “M’ name is Benny, and this gorgeous lady is Andrea. Tonight she has graciously agreed to be my partner so I can show you all a little bit of shibari, a traditional Japanese rope bondage.” He looked around the room at his rapt audience. “If y’all have any questions, I’ll be back tomorrow. Or, you can feel free to ask Rufus… Wherever he is.” He grinned. “Now, tonight, I will be using a cotton rope, because I am not intending to tie her very tightly or in any complicated positions. If I’m trying for something more complex, I recommend hemp.” His fingers found Andrea’s hair, and he stroked through it softly before continuing.

“I do recommend you find a good tutor before you attempt this by yourself; it can be very easy to accidentally cut off circulation, or dislocate a joint. Done right, though, this can be very rewarding.” He reached for the table with his free hand, coming up with a pair of paramedics scissors. “Always have a pair of scissors handy, and you should always test that they will cut the rope. You never know when you will need to get out quickly.” Dean couldn’t help but nod along at Benny’s thoughtful, precise explanation. He always had been a good teacher.

He turned his attention to Andrea. “Well, Cher… Are you ready?”

She looked up at him, and Dean’s heart skipped a beat at the look of expectant pleasure on her face. He’d forgotten what a thrill it was to have someone look at him that way, the rush of power that came with knowing that they turned themselves over for whatever pain or pleasure their Dom desired. “Yes, Sir,” she said, unfolding from her knees at Benny’s gesture.

“Very good. I plan to use a box tie, and then we’ll have some sensation play. Do you consent?” 

“Yes, Sir.” Andrea nodded once, knowing how important explicit consent was when they were doing a demo. She followed Benny to the center of the dias, letting him unwind a loop of rope around her.

“Now,” Benny said, once again addressing his audience. “The most important thing to remember is circulation. We’re not going to do any suspension today; that adds a whole new level of things to worry about.” He held up his rope. “I’ve already checked it once for imperfections; weak spots, rough spots. Things that could hurt her.” He ran the rope through his fingers anyway, checking one last time for imperfections. 

Dean’s eyes followed Benny’s movements. He liked shibari, though he knew he wasn’t anywhere near on Benny’s level. Andrea was a beautiful woman, and if Dean were into women, he could see exactly what was alluring about Andrea. She had pert breasts, highlighted intentionally as Benny began to wind the rope across her chest. Her smooth belly was that much more accented as the bindings forced her arms behind her and she arched her back lightly. Benny’s cajun accent explained everything he was doing with a steady lilt.

"Now, this is a good basic binding. It keeps your sub nice and open for anything you'd like to inflict, and it is fairly comfortable for a long session." He continued wrapping, until there were two bands around her chest, one above and one below her breasts. They coincided with the banding on her arms, and allowed him to bind both arms behind her back. Her wrists criss crossed and anchored to the back of the binding; Dean itched to be a little closer, to see the knotwork for himself. A stray thought passed through his mind; maybe Benny could show him more personally?

As soon as that thought came, it fled. Who would he even play with? Sam replaced Andrea for a moment, and Dean could just envision his long, lithe body outlined in black rope. It would crisscross so perfectly across his broad chest, immobilizing him, leaving him open for Dean's touch. He swallowed hard. Well, perhaps his mind _was_ ready to move on, at least a little. Then again, fantasizing about unattainable people was always safe, right? Like having a crush on a celebrity.

"Now then," Benny said, hand on Andrea's shoulder. "Her hands stay crisscrossed, behind her back." He gently guided her so that she spun in a circle, so everyone could see. "This leaves her nice and open." One big hand reached across, tweaking a nipple. Andrea squeaked in surprise, but remained steady, letting Benny touch her.

"If we were at home, I might bind her legs, put her in a position where she really can't move." He stroked a hand down her side, letting her shiver beneath his palm for a moment. "Today, though, she's going to be a good girl for me and let me show you without needing to be further restrained." He guided her to a low backed chair in the center of the dias and she sat carefully.

"Sensation play is interesting," Benny said, turning back toward the table. He picked up a piece of satin fabric, holding it up into the light. “Blindfolds can really enhance sensation play, because the not-knowing is a bit part of what makes it successful.” 

He crossed to Andrea, holding it up. “Are you still alright with this, darlin’?”

“Yes, Sir,” Andrea said, and this time she was a bit breathless. Benny smiled beatifically, bending to fasten the blindfold around her eyes. 

“Color?” Benny stood in front of her, careful, until she settled in the chair.

“Green, Sir.”

“Very good.” Benny turned back to the table. He picked up the feather, holding it up for the crowd to see. “Sensation play works off of the element of surprise. She doesn’t know what I’m holding. Is it hot? Cold? Both ice and hot wax can safely change the temperature of the skin very quickly. Always be sure that you are using a skin safe candle; buy from reputable shops.” He approached her, taking small steps and letting his free hand range across her shoulders and chest. At first she startled, but slowly began to relax into the touches. After a moment, Benny took the soft end of the feather and trailed it up her ribs. Andrea shivered, then tipped her head back. Benny stroked her with the feather anywhere he could reach, drawing abstract patterns. He’d fallen silent, his attention leaving the gathered crowd and focusing in on his sub.

“You’re so gorgeous like this, darlin’.” His soft murmur still carried across the club, now that it was quieter. She squirmed slightly, but then Benny took the feather and flipped it over. He scratched the sharper quill end over her breast, ending on her pert nipple, where he pressed it in firmly. She gave a high keening sound, dropping her head down when Benny pulled the feather away. 

“Notice,” Benny said, drawing his attention back to the watchers. “The same object can give two very different sensations. Even soft and gentle sensations can be frustrating, but I find they’re most effective when they’re contrasted with something very different.”

Dean watched, rapt, as Bobby continued to tease and stroke Andrea for another long moment. She was shaking, straining against her bondage as Benny scratched faint red lines into her skin. After another few moments, Benny set the feather aside and picked up the bowl.

“Sensation,” Benny said conversationally. “Is all about surprise. About the _trust_ your sub is putting in you.”

He lifted a dripping ice cube from the bowl, and Dean’s mouth went dry. Suddenly, he could just imagine Sam, spread out beneath him. His skin would be reddened from wax, little balls and strips drying hard on his chest. Benny touched the freezing sphere to Andrea’s reddened chest, and her shocked squeal echoed with Sam’s imagined howl. Dean longed to see Sam fighting him, fighting _himself_ to let Dean do what he wanted.

Dean shifted on his stool, adjusting himself in his jeans. Damn. There was fantasy, and there was… This. _Get yourself together, Singer_ , he thought briskly to himself as Benny began to untie Andrea, and wrapped her in a soft blanket that someone handed him. _You’ve still gotta work with the guy._

“Sheesh,” Donna said from somewhere beside him, more than a little breathless. “That was… Amazing.”

Dean blinked, shifting and looking over at her. Her lips were swollen and wet; clearly she’d been biting them. “Yeah,” he agreed, surprised when his own voice was a little breathy. “Benny and Andrea have been together a long time. You can totally tell.”

Donna nodded. “I hope one day I could be as gorgeous as that.” Her voice broke slightly, but Garth broke in.

“Hey,” he said, voice just a tinge sharp. “You’re _my_ gorgeous girl,” he reminded her, and she jumped slightly when he goosed her. “We’ve talked about you talkin’ like that.”

“Yessir,” Donna said, ducking her head until Garth reached and drew her in for a thorough kiss. She melted against him, and Dean took a swig of his coke. 

He finished his drink and swallowed hard against the conflicting emotions in his gut. Jealousy, happiness that his friends were happy, guilt. God, the guilt. No matter what Jo said, it still felt like betrayal. But at the same time, he hadn’t been this turned on in for fucking ever. He didn’t like the internal conflict, and wished he’d bought a beer instead of a coke.

“I’d love to see one of your demonstrations, Dean,” Donna said earnestly, pulling Dean from his thoughts. “Garth said you’re really… inspirational.” She was leaning against Garth, her eyes on Dean. “If you are up to it, I mean.”

“I actually haven’t done a demo in a long time,’ Dean admitted. “But maybe.” After all, a demo could be very intimate for a couple, Benny and Andrea had proved that, but it could also be purely professional. Dean would be lying if he didn’t itch to hold a flogger again. Two years was too long.

“Well, we’d be front row if you decided.” Garth smiled, warm. “For now though…” His hand slid a little lower on Donna’s back, squeezing warmly. “I think we’re gonna be on our way home.” He held out his free hand to Dean, shaking it firmly before drawing him into another one armed hug. “Thanks for the drinks. It was really good to see you.” 

“You too, man.” Dean hugged back, a little more relaxed, and smiled at Donna as they broke apart. “Very nice to meet you, Donna. And if this lug doesn’t treat you right, you know where to find me. I’ll set him straight.”

Donna flushed, wrapping a hand around Garth’s arm. “Thank you, Sir,” she said, nodding her head deferentially. “I appreciate that. I don’t think it’s likely though. No one treats me as good as he does.” She giggled as Garth pressed another kiss to her temple, and Dean smiled.

“I’m glad. It really was nice to meet you.” He shooed them toward the door. “Now go, go. The night is young! Go have fun. No need to hang around with an old fuddy duddy like me. I’m on my way out anyway. But…” he nodded decisively to himself a moment later. “I’ll definitely be back, soon. I’ll see you around.”

Garth nodded, and gathered Donna close as he led her toward the door. “Goodnight, Dean,” he said, waving over his shoulder. Dean watched them go, small wistful smile on his lips.

“G’night guys. Have fun.” After they left, Dean pushed up from the stool. He’d thought to mingle a little, to see some old friends, but the comedown from watching the demo left him feeling more tired than anything. He pushed his way through the crowd, enjoying the relative anonymity that being away for over a year had lent him. Once, everyone in the Tannery had known his face. He and Cas couldn’t walk through the door without greeting half a dozen people. Now he was able to make it to the door with only a cursory nod from one or two people. 

“Leavin’ already, boy?” Rufus stopped him at the door, and Dean hesitated. 

“Yeah.” He smiled. “Saw Garth and met his girl, but I’m just not feelin’ mingling tonight.” He shrugged. “Maybe this weekend. Now that I’m back, I don’t think I can back out again.”

Rufus grinned, slapping a hand onto Dean’s shoulder. “That’s what I like to hear, boy. It’s good to have you back.”

“Thanks, Rufus,” Dean said, giving the older man a hug before nodding to the door. “I’ll see you this weekend.”

Dean drove home in silence, not even Metallica carrying him toward home. The car felt emptier than it had in a long time, but at the same time, humming with potential. Anticipation. Even knowing that Sam wasn’t going to go for him, the fact that he was even _thinking_ about someone else felt like a win.

He walked into the apartment and hung up his jacket, then dropped onto the couch to pull off his boots. Groaning, he stretched his feet. As much as he loved his boots, and he really did, this felt… Wrong. Too much; like he’d been amped up, but there was nowhere to release the pressure. 

Reaching down, Dean gathered his boots and stood to carry them toward the bedroom closet. He looked away from the bed, aiming just to change his clothes and be done. 

_Are you trying to put those boots away without polishing them?_ Cas’ chiding voice in his head was sore, like a toothache. But it was a welcome pain. _When did I_ ever _let those be put away without polish?_

With a watery chuckle, Dean detoured to the chair in the corner to gather his supplies. _Of course not,_ he thought, smiling faintly. _Though I never have gotten your level of polish._ Still, it was comforting, after all this time, to fall into the routine of polishing and softening his boots. When that was finished, he copied the action on his belt and his strap, figuring that he owed both of them some attention as well. The tension and anxiety that had been following him all night faded away under the scent of polish and repetitive slide of cloth on leather.

He stowed his gear with considerably more care than before, then changed into a pair of sweats and tee shirt. It didn’t take long to get ready for bed, and soon he was crawling between his sheets. “G’night, Cas,” he murmured as he dropped his head to his pillow.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Please, Sir…” Sam’s voice was breathless, and he arched his hips up from the bed. Dean knelt beside him, his fingers stroking up his inner thigh. His long limbs were restrained at the head and footboards, and he strained against the leather cuffs there.

“You want it, boy?” His fingers stroked teasingly along Sam’s cock. “You want me to touch you?” 

Sam nodded desperately. “Please…”

A familiar voice came from behind him, but Dean knew he couldn’t look. If he looked, he knew it would all fall apart. “My, my… He is a pretty one, Sir.” Cas’ voice was approving and warm. 

Dean paused in his attention to Sam, though he didn’t move his hand from the warm thigh under his palm. “Yes, he is,” he murmured, smiling. “My pretty boy.” Sam keened softly when Dean’s hand slid along his taut leg toward his straining cock.

“Good. It isn’t good for you to be alone.” Cas’ voice carried the hint of a smile, and Dean felt an answering smile on his own lips. “Now… Don’t go neglecting your boy on my account, Sir. I’m just enjoying the show.”

Dean took the gentle nudge for what it was, crawling up toward Sam’s head to capture his Sub’s mouth in a deep kiss. He slid his hand between them, jacking Sam lazily just to listen to him moan. Behind him, Dean felt the presence behind him settle, a warm approval filling his chest even as Sam began to arch and roll beneath him. “Good boy,” Dean whispered against Sam’s lips, redoubling his efforts to bring his boy pleasure. Sam arched underneath him, moaning and gasping his pleas for more.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dean woke with a start. He groaned, squirming at the wet stickiness between his legs. “Damn…” He flopped back, blowing out a long breath. He hadn’t had a wet dream like that… Well, since Cas passed. But somehow, the feeling of peace he’d felt at Cas’ approval covered over the brief guilt at the fact that it was _Sam_ he’d been fantasizing about. He rolled over, then slid out of bed. _Maybe if I take a cold enough shower, I can look Sam in the eye at the library,_ he thought sardonically as he headed to the bathroom.

The next week passed quickly, and Dean had to admit that since his dream about Cas he’d gotten a lot more relaxed about the idea of dating Sam. It was like a switch had been flipped, and he had been given permission to act, well, normally. 

He’d redoubled his flirting at the library, enjoying the flush of pleasure on Sam’s cheeks when they spoke at the circulation desk. Sam had begun to flirt back, more obviously than before. Just little things, but enough to give Dean hope. Maybe Jo was right for once? All they really needed was to go out for coffee. It didn’t _have_ to be that kind of a relationship. Just… Something to tide him over, get him back on his feet. _Though he’d look damn good tied to your bed,_ that small, traitorous part of him that sounded suspiciously like Cas whispered. He pushed that part down, determined to be grateful for what he had. 

Thursday morning, Benny and Andrea rolled in at about noon, right when they opened. “Dean, brotha, it was great to see you the other night!” Benny’s exuberant greeting filled the room as usual, and he didn’t hesitate to come and hug Dean tightly.

“Thanks, Benny,” he said, chuckling. “I didn’t even think you’d notice me. That demo was pretty intense.” He stepped back, nodding a greeting to Andrea; Benny was fairly particular about how she was touched, and Dean knew he’d be doing quite a bit of touching through the day.

“Yeah, but ma chere here did all the work.” Benny grinned, tugging Andrea into a one armed embrace. “So what’ve you got for us? You said it was done?” He sounded like a kid in a candy shop, and the grin on Andrea’s face showed she agreed. 

Dean stepped back and headed back over to his desk. “Oh sure, you guys can come check it out.” He glanced at Andrea. “You wanted it on your thigh, right?”

She glanced at Benny, who nodded briefly. “Yes, my right thigh.” Her shorts left little to the imagination, though Dean wouldn’t have even considered anything if they didn’t. He glanced at the space and then over at his design. “Okay, awesome. Looks good to me. And you shaved it?”

“I wax,” she said, smiling faintly. “But yes, at the beginning of the week, so the skin would be smooth.”

“Good, good…” He let his fingers trail once across her skin, nodding when he decided it was hair free enough. Waxing did a great job, even if you had to time it just right. “Here’s the design.” The compass rose with their wedding date at the top, pointing toward true North, was surrounded with old school style roses. 

Benny gasped, and Andrea nodded approvingly. “Brotha,” Benny said with a grin. “That’s gorgeous. Absolutely gorgeous. I love it.” He looked over at Andrea. “What do you think, darlin’? Good enough to grace you forever?” He slid a hand down her thigh, and she shivered, smiling.

“I love it,” she agreed. “I can’t wait.” She leaned in against Benny, then looked up at him questioningly. “Are you gonna ask him?”

Benny hesitated a moment. “It’s already gonna be a lot of work, darlin’. I was thinkin’ I’d just come back another day.”

“Ask me what?” Dean cut in, looking up from where he was transferring the design over to the stencil paper. He grinned to himself as he kept his head down so Andrea wouldn’t see. After they’d come in for their first appointment, Benny had come in privately. He’d made an appointment for a complementary tattoo, a surprise for her. Dean had loved the idea, and he’d drawn both designs at the same time. 

“Oh, well, we were just talkin’ after you were drawin’, and I was thinkin’ that I’d like to get one, too.” Benny’s voice was sheepish, and Dean grinned happily as he set the second drawing on the table.

“Y’ know, I thought you might say that. What do you think of this?” He passed the anchor across. Smooth lines, very old school. Dean loved it; everyone wanted New School all the time, but he loved the chance to flex his old school muscles sometimes. 

Benny laughed; even knowing it was coming, Dean had outdone himself. “I love the swallows,” he said, touching the edge of the drawing, where they framed the anchor on either side. They held a scroll with their wedding date between their feet. “It’s perfect.” 

Andrea’s eyes were wide. “Sir!” She looked up at him, a smile breaking out across her face. “You were planning this the whole time!” 

“Of course, darlin’! When you told me you wanted one for me, well.. Of course I wanted one for you. You’re my anchor, cher.” He tugged her close and kissed her deeply. Breaking apart, he looked over at Dean. “So, linework today, and color next month?”

“That sounds about right.” Dean finished the stencil and then straightened, glancing up at Benny. “May I?” 

The other Dom nodded. “Of course, Brotha. Do whatcha gotta.” He gave Dean blanket permission to touch as needed for the tattoo, which Dean appreciated. He gestured for Andrea to stand in front of him and spritzed her leg. A moment later he had carefully spread the stencil across her upper thigh. He smoothed it out and then pulled it off, leaving only the blue lines behind. 

“What do you think?”

She turned to face the long mirror on the back of Dean’s door. “Perfect,” she stated, turning to Benny. “You like it?”

He looked at it for a long moment before nodding. “Perfect,” he agreed. “I can’t wait to see how th’ line work looks when you’re done.”

“Mmhm. And I’m glad you two will get to heal at the same time..” Dean had done some of Benny’s other tattoos and knew how he sat but they weren’t small pieces for either of them, so he was just as happy to let the linework have time to heal before he got into the nitty gritty. Benny had said how important it was that they got done at the same time, so Dean was happy to oblige.

“Ok. Just hop up here for me, and lie back,” he said, gesturing to the soft table he’d covered in cling wrap. He set up his ink and gun and portable light while she got comfortable. Benny sat in the chair next to her, taking her hand like he couldn’t stand not touching her.

“Alright, ready to get started?”

The music began to filter out from the laptop speakers and Andrea nodded. “Please.”

Dean dipped the tip of his gun in the ink and started. Andrea hissed once and gripped Benny’s hand more tightly, but otherwise didn’t move.

“We’ve missed you,” Benny said after a few minutes. “Both of you.”

Dean didn’t glance up, grateful for the task at hand that meant he didn’t need to look at Benny’s face. He took a long moment first, and then sighed. “I know. I missed you guys, too. It just felt like I couldn’t, you know? Like it was betraying him.”

“I know how that feels, Dean,” Andrea agreed softly. “When I lost Damien, I felt I would never love again. But then I met Benny.” She smiled adoringly at her Dom. “He is exactly what I needed, and if I hadn’t been open to it, I never would have met him.”

“I know. I really do.” Dean smiled faintly. “I don’t know if it’ll go anywhere, or really mean anything, but, there’s this guy. Sam. He works at the library, and I think I might ask him out. Well, later. I’m actually working on a piece for him right now, and that would be weird, if I did it before.”

Benny grinned. Dean had very few friends, but Benny was among the more exuberant of them. “Now that is a sound for sore ears. You deserve the chance to make something good.”

“I don’t think that’s how that saying goes,” Dean laughed. He had missed Benny. They’d joined the scene about the same time, but really hadn’t spoken much since Cas’ death. It had been too painful to watch his and Andrea’s perfect love. Jo had cussed him out for withdrawing from his best friend, but at the time it had been too much. They still spoke now and again, but not like before. They’d spoken more since Benny had commissioned the tattoos, actually, than he had since Cas’ funeral.

They spent awhile in silence before Andrea squirmed again. “I’m sorry. I need to go to the bathroom.”

“Oh, sure.” Dean made short work of wiping her down and wrapping her leg in plastic so she could stand up and go.

The rest of the afternoon passed quietly, the three of them talking and joking almost like old times while Dean finished the outline of Andrea’s piece, and then did Benny’s. He’d opted for over his heart, the sap, and Dean had ribbed him for it gently before he placed the stencil.

When he’d finished, after Dean washed his hands, they all headed up to the counter. Benny clapped Dean on the shoulder as he passed over the three hundred dollars for that day’s session. “They’re perfect, Brotha. Love them, really. We’ll give you a call and set somethin’ up for next month?”

“Absolutely.” Dean smiled. “I’ll be here. And hey, maybe we can do dinner sometime next week? We really need to catch up.”

“That is the best idea you’ve had in ages,” Benny said with a grin. He took the offered aftercare instruction sheet Dean slid across the counter; it never hurt to have a reminder. He wrapped an arm around Andrea, who was getting a little shaking with her come down. She let Benny guide her to the door, waving once to Dean while they left. 

Jo appeared behind Dean from her station, clapping him on the shoulder. “Look at you!”

Dean jumped. “Jesus Christ, Jo, do you _have_ to sneak up on me all the time?”

Jo cackled maniacally. “Well, you always jump! It’s hilarious, dude.” She turned back toward her station, shaking her head. “I heard you making plans! Actual plans! You’re almost like a real boy again!”

Dean fought the urge to stick his tongue out at her back. Instead, he just turned back to his station. “Shut up, Jo,” he said as he started to clean up the plastic from Benny’s session. “And turn that crap off.” His sister’s usually decent taste in music had shifted lately to include some bullshit bubblegum-pop boyband monstrosity that Dean hadn’t bothered to learn the name of.

With another cackle, Jo turned the music up and left Dean fuming as she went back to work and he wiped down his counter.

“What’s that song?” The door had opened and Dean hadn’t heard the bell over whatever Jo was pumping on the speakers. “Not your usual, man.”

He turned, his annoyance fading slightly when he saw who it was. “Sam! Good to see you.” Dean smiled warmly, balling up his paper towels and dropping them in the trash. “It's just some trash my sister has decided she likes. I think mainly to piss me off. How’s your day going, dude?”

“It’s been pretty good. Got some bills paid, ran some errands. Ready to get started, though!” He leaned on the desk, and Dean nodded.

“Sure thing. I’m excited, too.” He passed Sam the sketch from his desk. “I’ve gotta just finish wiping this down… What do you think?”

Sam took it eagerly, grinning. “Oh, wow… That’s perfect, dude! Just perfect!” He watched as Dean washed his table down, getting everything settled. “I love it.”

“I'm glad.” Dean started to wrap his table in plastic, protecting it from errant blood and ink. “Since this is your first time, I'm thinking we'll start with the linework and see how you sit. If you're still good, we'll go on, if not, we'll plan for a second appointment.” It was a big design, but not out of reach for one sitting, if Sam could handle it. He didn't want to push too far.

“Yeah, that sounds good. I've heard everything from it being a little tickle to a killer burn, but I’ve got a pretty decent pain tolerance.” Sam sat down on the table and extended his leg for Dean to look at. “So we’ve just gotta put on the stencil, right?”

“Awesome. Pain tolerance is key. And yeah, that’s the next step.” Dean straightened from the table, taking the sketch from Sam and setting it back on his desk. It was easier to get into a professional mindset when he had a gun in his hand, and he was determined to be professional about this. His chances with Sam later depended on it. 

Sam’s smooth leg appeared in his field of vision, and he gripped his ankle reflexively. Sam shivered slightly under his hands, and Dean felt a small possessive thrill at that, which he tamped down as firmly as possible. _Professional_ , he reminded himself. “You shaved?” He asked conversationally. He was already reaching for the razor and shaving cream that he kept in his station; no matter how well the client did it, he liked to make sure himself. 

“Yeah, just like you said.” Sam blushed a little as Dean’s fingers skated up the smooth skin, and a corresponding heat pooled in Dean’s stomach at the sight. “Did I do a good enough job? Gotta admit, I’ve never shaved my legs before, but, ah, I wanted to make sure you had a smooth canvas.” 

“You did a pretty good job,” Dean said, his voice dipping low in approval. He couldn’t help himself, and seeing Sam blush more deeply was totally worth it. “There are just a few more spots for me to smooth out.” He dispensed some foam into his hand and smoothed his fingers up Sam’s calf, covering the few rogue hairs. Sam shivered, but let Dean rub the foam up his leg and then gently swipe it off with the razor.

It might not have been entirely professional to admit that he snuck more than a few glances at Sam’s face while he was shaving him, but the look of trust and something else Dean couldn’t quite define that he found there made it forgivable. 

“There.” Dean wiped the last of the foam off with a damp cloth. “All better. Ready to get started?”

Sam’s pupils were blown wide, but Dean forced himself to tuck that little piece of information aside as the business at hand became, once again, the business at hand. He spritzed Sam’s leg with the transfer medium and then gestured for Sam to stand.

It didn’t take long to get the stencil applied and for Sam to settle in a comfortable position on the table. “That looks perfect,” Sam said, his voice a little breathier than Dean had ever heard before. 

"Awesome. Ok dude, now it's just time to relax." Dean smiled at Sam as warmly as he could. He firmly called up his professional persona and ignored the little twitter of excitement as he set his hand on Sam's calf. He pulled the gun over and pressed down on the floor pedal. It whirred to life with a satisfying buzz and he set to work.

As the needle started to bite into his leg, Sam drew in a sharp breath. To distract himself from the pain, Sam looked around Dean’s studio. He wasn’t surprised by the flash art on the walls, mostly new school pieces with a few more traditional things thrown in. Sam had seen the Leather Pride flag when he walked in for the first time; this time felt a little more real though. Did it really mean what he thought? Dean would be a really good source for a lot of his articles, if that was true.

His eyes dropped down to where Dean sat hunched over his leg; the wide leather belt in his belt loops caught his attention. Sam swallowed hard, having to admit to himself that the idea of _that belt_ coming out, and Dean acting out some of his more tawdry fantasies, made a warmth simmer in his belly.

He shimmied a tiny bit, trying not to jostle Dean, but the artist looked up anyway. “You okay, Sammy?”

Sam nodded. “Yeah, yeah… I’m fine.” He cleared his throat, debating whether or not to break the peace again. "This doesn't feel like I thought it would,” he said, finally, after the silence got too heavy for him to take. "I mean, I don't really know what I _expected_ that it would feel like, but I didn't expect it to feel like that." He chuckled faintly. 'Then again, I guess everyone feels something different?"

Dean glanced up again, reassuring himself that Sam was still okay. His face wasn't flushed, and he wasn't sweating, so Dean turned back to the linework. "Oh, yeah. I mean, everyone's a little different. You know, I've had people in here pass out after like, fifteen minutes from what I would consider a relatively simple piece." He shrugged as he dipped his needles again. "But then again, I've had people sit for five or six hours without moving so much as a muscle. Don't even twitch. Just depends on the person." He really couldn't resist throwing one more thing out, though. "I've had some guys get hard just from the buzz of the needle. It can be a real high. Especially if you're into pain."

He set a steadying hand on Sam’s knee. “Sit still for me,” he said, and Sam went entirely still. He glanced up at Sam, and this time he _was_ flushed. Like, really flushed. But then, Dean wasn't that surprised. He really hadn't lost _all_ his instincts, and Sam had read 'bottom' to him from the first time they'd met at the library, with all the ‘yes sir, no sir’ that he had doled out without a hint of sarcasm. 

"Well I really don't know about that," Sam said, but when Dean leaned away to refill his ink again, he did shift on the chair. "So, uh, what made you want to tattoo?" He seemed really focused on getting the attention off of himself, and Dean couldn't really blame him. He took pity on the guy, smiling a little.

"Well, I was always into art. In high school I was the guy with doodles in all his notebooks and a C in every class, you know? Not a geek like you." He grinned up at Sam to take the heat out of his words as he said it. "But, ah... Unfortunately, I was also the kind of guy who may or may not have always had a couple cans of spray paint in the back of his car. At least, until my dad caught me one time. He made me scrub down the whole damn bridge by myself." He chuckled self-deprecatingly. "But he said I had some talent, and I was not allowed to waste it. Best damn talk I ever had in my life."

"Really?" Sam had a hard time imagining the Dean he knew ever being a vandal. Sure, he looked a little rough around the edges. The tongue piercing and ear piercings on a guy were a little strange, and all those tattoos were _incredibly_ hot. Well. To him. But Dean was also one of the smartest guys Sam had met in a very long time, and he didn't hold that intelligence back, either. That was one of the things that made him so attractive. "So what, you found an artist and went for it?"

"Eh, somethin' like that. My dad wanted me to go to art school. Me. Art school!" He laughed. "But I really couldn't see myself doing that. Mom said I had to do something though, and the alternative was to join my dad in the mechanics shop." He shrugged. "Summer I turned eighteen I bought my first tattoo gun, and started begging the butcher for pigskins."

Sam wrinkled his nose. "Pig skin? Dude, that's disgusting."

Dean laughed again, dipping for more ink. He paused to make sure all his lines were straight and connecting where he wanted them to, and then he nodded. "Yeah, pig skins. Might be gross, but they're the closest thing to human skin that you can find. Easy to get your hands on. So I practiced on those, doing whatever I could to make sure I would be able to blend colors, mark a straight line, all that stuff. Then I started putting out feelers, looking to see who might be looking for an apprentice."

"Huh." Sam leaned back in the chair, relaxing a little more as the endorphins kicked in and the conversation took his mind off of things. "I didn't know that there were tattoo apprenticeships. That's really neat."

"Oh yeah. The really reputable guys are all apprentices. I mean, you can self teach and that's great, but if you want to be sure you're doing it right, you find yourself a master and make sure you're learning to sanitize your guns right, and how to swap out your needles. All that. So anyway, I got in with this guy, Michael. He made sure I knew what I was doing. I worked with him until i was twenty four. Then I decided I wanted to live a little closer to home, so I packed up and bought my shop out here. My sister Jo decided when she was in high school that she wanted to work with me, and I started showing her stuff at home. By the time she graduated college, she was tattooing on the side pretty regular." He grinned proudly; his sister was the best. "And that business degree really comes in handy while we're trying to balance the books."

"Oh, I bet it does. So it's just you two?" Sam hadn't had any siblings, but he'd always dreamed of one or two. That was part of why he and Gabe got along so well. Gabe wanted a little brother to annoy, and Sam wanted a big brother to ignore. The two of them really managed to make it work. 

"Yeah, just the two of us. Our parents live about a half hour outside the city, and we do dinner every week. Singer family tradition." He smiled, and wiped at Sam's calf. It was really coming together, the howling wolf climbing the side of the leg and wrapping around twoard the thigh. Exactly as they had wanted it. Dean could already see in his mind's eye the way the colors would blend together and how he would arrange the other pieces that Sam wanted in the sleeve to meld with the wolf. 

"That's really cool. My mom and dad live in Kansas... It's kind of a haul to get out there, but I try to make it every year or so." Sam shrugged. "I don't know if I really make it often enough, but Skype and Facebook are really good enough." He shivered as Dean's hands passed over his leg again. He really didn't want to admit it but it felt good. Not like, _good_ good, but... He was responding. He blew out a deep, slow breath and firmly told his cock to stay put. That wasn't what he was here for, no matter how gorgeous Dean's green eyes were, or the way that he seemed to effortlessly take control of situations.

"Oh wow... You know, I don't think I could do that. I mean, I was only forty five minutes away before, and I was only staying there because Jo was in college a St. Olaf and it was a close enough drive for both of us to work at the shop, you know?" He shrugged. "Being that far away must be really hard. I'm sorry to hear it, dude."

"Well, you gotta go work where the jobs are. And really, this job is a dream come true."

"Oh, I bet... Library like that's gotta be a librarian wet dream." Dean smirked up at him. "So, tell me truthfully... Are books _really_ an aphrodisiac? Or maybe it's those little glasses you wear sometimes." His smirk widened. "You've gotta be swimmin' in the ladies, I bet."

Sam cleared his throat, blushing. "Well, no, I mean, it's not like that, exactly. And, uh... I actually haven't had a girlfriend since college." He flexed the foot Dean wasn't working on, and Dean paused in his work.

"You doin' okay? We've already been going for like.... Forty five minutes. That's not bad for a first timer, if you need a little break."

Sam shook his head. "No, no, I'm good." He flushed again, even more embarrassed now. "I just get a little squirmy when I'm on the spot." He blew out a breath. "You're good. Go ahead. Anyway, it's not like I'm not out, so don't worry about it. No, no boyfriends, no girlfriends. The most action I get is writing my blog." He grinned ruefully. "The life of a librarian isn't as exciting as you might think, after all."

"Well, that's plenty interesting," Dean countered. "And anyway, I haven't had a serious boyfriend in a long time, either. Not since, ah, Cas passed away. So I hear you. I mean, it's not like people fall out of trees. Or something. Though my mom would really rather that I have a steady somebody. but I keep telling her that it's gonna happen if ti's gonna happen, and it's not if it's not."

"Oh, man. I'm really sorry to hear that... But man, don't I know!" Sam laughed. "My mom's always fishing. ‘You meet anybody yet? You know you've been out there six months. Sam why don't you go on any dates?’ It's worse than a yenta, I swear." He laughed. "But then, that's moms for you, I guess. They just want to make sure that we're doing okay and we're not gonna be left alone in the cold, cold world."

Dean grinned. "Yeah, exactly. But they're our moms and we've gotta live with them, whether we like it or not." The talk about Cas, however brief, sent a sharp pang through him, and he wiped Sam's leg down. "Hey, listen, I've gotta take a piss, you mind if we take a little break?"

"Oh, sure man, do what you gotta do." Sam grinned at him. "I'm good here." 

Dean headed into the bathroom and blew out a long breath. It was strange; he was ready to move on, to try something, but thinking about Cas still took his breath away sometimes. He _did_ piss, and then washed his hands and face. After he dried off, he headed back into the room.

Sam was texting someone, a small smile on his face, and Dean was surprised by the bolt of jealousy that shot through his stomach. Even though Sam had just said that he hadn't had any girlfriends _or_ boyfriends lately, and wasn't that a kick in the pants, he still had the possibility of being with someone. Dean didn't want to get in the way of that, even if he really _did_.

"You ready to get started?" He asked, squirting his hands with sanitizer and then reaching for a new pair of gloves when they'd dried. "Still feelin' okay?"

"Yeah, man, absolutely." Sam had a slightly stoned look to his eyes when he met Dean's gaze, and Dean chuckled.

"Good, good. Well, you let me know if you start feelin' off, okay? But I think you and me? We're gonna get along fine." He very firmly locked away the part of his mind that wondered what would happen to Sam if he got some _real_ endorphins going. Tats were great, a small, localized pain. But as things went, they generally weren't that intense. Nothing like say, a flogging, or a strap. Damn, would Sam's long legs look so, so good with marks from his strap up and down his thighs... Dean cleared his throat, and glanced up.

"So, what made you want to be a librarian? I mean, I wanted to be a firefighter when I was a kid, or I think my sister wanted to be a doctor. But I don't think I ever met a kid who wanted to be a librarian." He grinned. "That's right up there with 'accountant' for 'least glamorous job', isn't it?"

"Oh, har har... I don't see you complaining when I'm saving you the last copy of that new release, are you?" Sam shot back with a smirk of his own. "But no, it's really not that glamorous. I really like to read, and I'll admit that I spent a little more time in libraries as a child than was strictly normal." He shrugged. "I didn't have any siblings, and my cousins are all just older enough or lived far enough away that I really didn't have many playmates. But books? We had lots and lots of books." He smiled wistfully, and shrugged with one shoulder. "So I spent a lot of time in libraries. And when I went to school, I worked in the library part time for spending money. By the time I went to college I knew there really wasn't anywhere else I wanted to spend the rest of my life." He grinned. "Learned some pretty neat things about myself in libraries."

"Oh?" Dean looked up briefly, still grinning. "Do tell."

"Not on the first date!" Sam put on a scandalized tone, and then seemed to realize what he'd said. "Ehm. Not that, ah, this _is_ a date, because it's clearly not. Not that I'd say no to a date! But I mean... Shit. I'm just digging myself deeper, aren't I?"

Dean began to laugh, setting his gun aside to wipe down Sam's leg again and look at the outline. "You know, Sammy, I like you. And you know... It's not really professional of me, but since you just said you wouldn't turn down a date, what would you think about maybe getting a cup of coffee sometime?" He smiled hesitantly. "I mean, if you say no, no hard feelings. I was gonna ask you later, after we finish with this, but since you brought it up...' He trailed off hopefully.

Luckily, Sam's eyes lit up. "Man. Thanks for not letting me make a fool of myself. That would be really cool, actually. I'd love to get a cup of coffee with you."

Dean's gut unclenched. "Awesome." He grabbed his gun again, turning back to the outline. Sam had wanted more of a watercolor look, so there weren't as many lines as there could have been. "Well... great." Of course, now things _were_ awkward. Sam was the kind of guy who deserved to be wined and dined and here he was talking to _Dean_ of all people. And what were they supposed to talk about now? He skittered back on their previous conversation, seeking for anything to change the topic to. "So you said you write a blog? What's it about?"

"Oh, it's just something i started in college. You know, for a guy with as few relationships as I've had, somehow I still end up being the one always asked relationship questions." He laughed. "You know the ones... Is it normal that she hasn't texted me in three days? What do I do if he wants to buy me a drink? Does it make me gay to want to wear panties under my jeans?" Sam grinned; Brody had been so earnestly _concerned_ by that!

"Woah woah... Those are some pretty personal questions to be asking. At least that one is." He chuckled. "What kind of friends do you have?" Of course, Dean wasn't really judging. Some of his friends in the Scene had been more than willing to ask him those questions. But still, that didn't mean that it wasn't a little weird to hear a vanilla guy be so open. 

"Oh, trust me, that's just scratching the surface. I don't know why they always felt the need to ask _me,_ , though. But my momma always said I have the Curse of Competence, so I guess that could explain it. But if I didn't know, I could usually find out. So I'd do a little research, and get back to them. Eventually they were asking me so many questions that Gabe suggested I just put it online. So I did. Now I sort of run a safe-space Dear Abby. I call myself (name) and I answer the kinds of questions you just don't want to ask your parents, but people might not know how to look up themselves."

Dean blinked, and if he weren't so _professional_ his grip on his gun might have faltered. "So wait, let me get this straight. _you're_ (name)?" He gasped. "You've got to be kidding me?" He grinned. "My sister reads your column all the time!" He hesitated. "But you're not in the Scene yourself?" 

"Well..." Sam hesitated too. This was way more personal than he might have gone, except that, well, it was _Dean_. They'd been talking for months, though this conversation seemed much more suited to a tattoo parlor than a library. "Not exactly. More like there's never been a good place to experiment." He shrugged. "It just hasn't been all that important, you know?" 

"Oh, yeah... I... yeah." Dean's mouth went dry, and he shifted a little bit in his chair. All his professionalism aside, he knew that he desperately wanted to get Sam to himself. Oh, yes, Sam was exactly what he wanted. It was really hard to think about his work when all he wanted was to tie his client down and go to town. Of course, that word saved him. Client. Sam wasn't his boyfriend, _yet, a small, traitorous part of him whispered_ , and he did have a job to do, so Dean set to it. Of course, another question settled in his mind, though he didn't voice it. How much of the symbolism in the shop did Sam recognize? It wasn't like Dean was hiding it by any stretch of the imagination, but then, if you weren't looking for it, who would expect it?

Sam dropped his head back, feeling more than a little floaty and just downright _good_. "Man... You know, this is crazy. I don't think if you told me last week that sitting me down and letting you stab me with hundreds of tiny needles for hours would feel this good that I would have believed you." he grinned a little bit dopily. "But man I do."

"Oh, good." Dean was grateful for the change in subject; his professionalism was going to be seriously impacted if he had to talk about it for much longer. In fact, it was going to be tempted if he had to touch Sam for much longer in this one setting. He glanced at the clock, and how much linework was left. Not much. He turned his attention to that, only glancing up at Sam every now and then. Half an hour later he was done, and set the needles aside. "Listen... I think maybe we ought to go for a second session, if that's okay with you? Your skin's getting a little bit irritated, and I really wouldn't want to risk it getting damaged."

"No, no, that's cooool, man." Sam sat up, wobbling a little, and Dean jumped to his feet to steady him. 

"Easy, easy... Take it slow and steady, dude. I don't want any faceplants on my floor, yeah?"

"Oh, yeah." Sam grinned, and Dean shook his head.

"Right. Okay. You can't drive home just yet, buddy.” Sam wasn't the first person that he had have that kind of a response to the ink, but it wasn't recent. "How about you come sit out in the lobby for a bit and have a cookie and some juice? You're not allergic to peanut butter, right?" Stabilizing his blood sugar and letting him settle for a little while would give him time to get safe to drive. If that didn't happen, then they could call someone to pick him up. "You need to relax for a little while. After all, it's better safe than sorry, you know dude?"

"Oh, yeah, yeah... No allregies. I'm good." Sam wobbled just a little more, and winced as he stood up. He glanced in the mirror and grinned broadly. "Oh, dude that's so awesome! I mean, really that's so fucking awesome. I love it. I can't wait for color..." He sat back down and let Dean finish wrapping him up. "I really can't. Damn. That's really nice."

Dean chuckled. "i'm glad you like it." He wiped Sam down and wrapped him in cling film. "Come on, let's take you out and sit down. We'll go over aftercare and payment after you've had a little bit to settle, okay?"

"Sure, sure..”' Sam let Dean guide him out to the lobby and set him in one of the chairs by the door. His head flopped back against the wall. "Dude... I feel _good_. Is it always like this?"

"Always? No, not always. Yo'ure just lucky, I guess," Dean said with a grin. "So... While I've got you at my mercy, how's Tuesday for that coffee?"

"Tuesday? Tuesday’s good. Tuesday's great. I'd like that a lot." Sam blinked at him, still grinning broadly. "Yeah. Tuesday.”

"Cool." Dean bustled around to the employee fridge, coming back with a juicebox and a peanut butter thumbprint cookie. "Here. Drink. Eat. Let's see if we can't get your feet just a little closer to the ground, huh?"

"Oh, yeah... That's a good idea," Sam agreed, taking the food happily enough. "Yeah. Mm... That's a damn good cookie."

Dean smiled as Sam seemed to ride out his endorphin high. His chuckle turned into an outright laugh as Sam began to sing along with one of the bubblegum pop boys still making its way out of Jo's part of the shop. "You've been holding out on me!" Dean teased, laughing as Sam began to rock out whole heartedly.

Sam sang on, unabashed, and one song faded into another Dean just laughed and sat at the desk, enjoying the impromptu serenade. When Sam had come down, his shakes faded into a more relaxed demeanor, Dean grinned. "Right, so. You ready to make your next appointment?"

They settled up quickly at the register, and Dean had to admit that he was looking forward to their second tattoo session almost as much as he was looking forward to the date on Tuesday. His erection had faded as Sam's reaction had mellowed, but Dean couldn't deny that he ws affected by the way that Sam had responded to the tattooing. It was almost as much a thrill for Dean as it had been for Sam, as little as he would want to admit that.

Sam left, walking gingerly out of the shop, and Dean sank down into his chair. "So. Coffee on Tuesday, huh?" Dean didn't even jump this time; Jo had startled him enough for seven lifetimes. 

"That's the plan." Dean looked up at her. "You know, I'm actually really looking forward to it. I don't think I've been on a vanilla first date in... Ten years."

Jo grinned. "Well that's awesome. It'll be good for you, I promise."

“Damn, I hope so.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sam stood near the door of The Daily Grind, the coffee shop closest to Dean’s tattoo shop. He hadn’t been able to prevent himself from being kind of early, so he had a pretty good view through the plate glass window when Dean slid out of his slick black car. His leather jacket gleamed, like it had been recently oiled. Dean smiled as he walked into the coffee shop, and Sam’s heart skipped a beat. "Sam. So good to see you." He clapped Sam on the shoulder, squeezing gently. He nodded to the bar. "Let me get you a coffee. What would you like?"

Sam shrugged; it had been a while since he'd been on a date with another guy, and even though it felt weird to be thrust into the 'girl' role, Dean _had_ been the one to ask, so Sam wasn't going to complain. "Sure. Umm, actually, I'm not that picky?" He licked his lips. Was it weird to offer too early to let Dean pick for him? Now that the idea was in his head, he really didn’t want to let it go, and anyway, Dean was a dom. He was almost a hundred percent certain. And if he wasn't? Well, it probably wasn't too weird anyway. "Surprise me.” The words rolled off his tongue before he could stop himself, and he rubbed his suddenly sweaty palms on his knees. 

Dean looked at him skeptically, but nodded. "Sure. How about you go find us a table?" Was Sam imagining the steel in his voice? Whatever it was, the tone sent a shiver down Sam's back. He turned away with a small smile. Maybe... Well, he wasn't going to get ahead of himself. A date is only a date, after all. And Dean didn't seem like the kind of guy just to jump into things.

He watched Dean at the counter from his seat by the window. The older man smiled flirtatiously with the barista, which would have made Sam nervous if he hadn't known Dean long enough to know the man flirted with anything that breathed. Instead, he smiled, watching as Dean shoved some bills into the tip jar, and then stood at the end of the counter for their drinks. He came over a few minutes later, two cups in hand. "All right... Hazelnut coffee for me..." He settled into the chair opposite Sam and offered him a tall cup. The steam smelled almost sickeningly sweet, just how Sam liked it. "And a ridiculous white chocolate mocha with a shot of raspberry for you."

"Ridiculous, huh?" Sam took the coffee, grinning. "I'd almost think you've been stalking my coffee, Dean." He took a tentative sip and nodded appreciatively. "This is perfect, dude. Like, seriously." He swallowed and then leaned back in his chair more comfortably again. "Really great.'

Dean seemed to relax a little at that. "Good. I mean, good. That's great. I'm glad that you like it." He took a sip of his own coffee. "So, listen... I feel like you need to know that it's been a long time since I was on a first date. Like, years. So I mean, this is probably gonna be a little bit on the awkward side..."

Sam laughed, kicking one foot out to nudge Dean's ankle. "A little, huh? Well, to be a hundred percent honest, it's been years for me, too. I mean, probably at least four? Before I left grad school, at least. I'm definitely not everyone's cup of tea, and that's okay with me." His smile softened. "So maybe let's just talk. I know you have to have finished Game of Thrones by now."

Dean's eyes lit up as the conversation slipped toward more comfortable ground. "Oh. My. God. GRRM is a dick. Seriously. I mean, who kills off that many characters in just the first book?" He leaned in across the table, and Sam thrilled at the small invasion into his personal space. Dean never seemed to hold back from that, actually, always nearby and larger than life. It was strange; it had been a really long time since someone had been able to make Sam feel small at all. And somehow when Dean did it, it didn't feel BAD. It just was . After all, Dean never intimidated, never tried to use that indomitable personality to make other people uncomfortable. He just filled up space, like there was more of him than the room could hold. Sam wanted to bottle that, to be able to take it out and have a little sip of it on days when the library patrons were impossible and his mind was spinning. It would be nice not to need to take his fifteen minute break and just get as far away from everyone as possible.

Dean's voice flowed over him, and he found himself laughing more than once at Dean's impression of a character or a scene. "You really should consider taking up writing, Dean," Sam said earnestly. "I mean, I know you don't have a lot of free time. But you really do have a way with words. I'm sure I'd love to read something you wrote."

It was Dean's turn to blush, and wasn't that an interesting sight? The normally unflappable Dean, looking at him like he was nuts. But then, he might think Sam WAS. After all, Sam didn't get the impression Dean shared that part of himself very often. "Well, thanks, dude. Probably not. I really am pretty busy with the shop and everything. But it's nice to know you think that."

Sam smiled. "Well, it's the truth, Dean. You know I wouldn't ever tell you something that wasn't." He sipped his coffee again, savoring the sweetness on his tongue. "I've gotten a ton of compliments on my wolf," he said, shifting the conversation back toward Dean's comfort space. "Though the number of people who want to know if it's done already are starting to drive me nuts."

Dean laughed. "Yeah, I really don't know what they think they're doing. Why the hell would I ly oncolor half the tattoo? It's not even like it fades between done and undone very much. Just hard lines!" He shook his head. "Whatever. Stupid people can just take a deep breath."

Sam laughed, nodding his agreement. “I know. It’s pretty funny.” But then, he could understand how other people might wonder, too, because he couldn’t see what was going to be coming. “You’re amazing, by the way. I mean… I love words. I love to write, and to paint pictures in someone’s head. But what you do is totally different.” he glanced down at his leg, the healing tattoo protected from the grime of the day by the long pants he wore. “I look at that sketch and I can’t even begin to imagine the color.” He shook his head. “To hold all that in your head, and be able to see what the finished piece should look like?” He grinned. “That’s amazing.”

Dean seemed a little more relaxed by the time Sam finished talking, and he held up his cup in a small toast. “Well, thanks,” he said. “Though I don’t think I’m really any more impressive than any other artist. I just do what I do. Just like you do.” He sipped his coffee, silently thrilling at the pleasure he could see on Sam’s face every time he sipped the coffee. There was no way Sam knew how many of Dean’s buttons he’d pushed by asking him to order for him. Not quite as good as giving up control and letting Dean tie him to the bed, but for a vanilla date? A damn good one.

“Yes, well, I suppose we’ll have to agree to disagree,’ Sam said with a small shrug. “Have you ready anything else good lately?” Even though he often gave Dean suggestions for books to read, he was always looking for something new, and books definitely seemed to be the safest topic for the evening. It was a pleasure to see Dean’s face light up as he started talking about a book series he’d started on a whim, picked up because the cover had a dragon and a guitar on it. 

“Seriously, dude, _shape shifting dragon bass player._ ” His smile was blinding, and Sam wanted nothing more than to bask in it for the rest of the day. Gabe had been teasing him about his crush, but it was clear that Dean felt the same way about him. At least, if the way his eyes hadn’t left Sam’s since they sat down was any indication. Their hands crept closer together, and by the time Dean had finished telling Sam about how the dragon-bassist had foiled the bank robbery, their fingers were tangled together at the table top. 

Dean paused to take a breath, and suddenly seemed to realize what was going on. He glanced down where their fingers were joined, and then very deliberately shifted to trap Sam’s fingers with his own. 

Sam smiled back at him, and nodded encouragingly. “So the whole band is in on the crime fighting thing? Or is it just our bassist?”

It seemed like Dean was going to be stuck, still staring at their hands, but then he squeezed Sam’s fingers and grinned. “Naw, it’s the whole band. Like, total Batman thing or something. I dunno, it’s one of the most ridiculous books I’ve read in forever, but really I kind of like it.”

“Sounds really fun,” Sam agreed, thrilling inside at the feeling of Dean’s hand squeezing his own. “I might have to give them a try.”

They talked a while longer, hands entwined, until finally Sam shifted. “I’ve got to get back; I had to tell them that I would be able to close tonight, because we had a call off.”

Dean looked reluctant, but he nodded as he stood up. “Well, I had a good time.” He squeezed Sam’s shoulder. “Like, a really good time. Are you free Saturday?”

“After five,” Sam said, heart racing with the prospect of another date. “I could go for pasta?”

“Pasta sounds awesome,” Dean agreed. “I'll pick you up at five fifteen.” He spoke more confidently, and Sam nodded. 

“Fine by me.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"So, I thought you might like to know."

Sam blinked as he looked up from his computer at the semi-familiar voice. "What's that?" He smiled to see Jo Singer standing there, holding a pamphlet. "Hey Jo, what's up?" It was much less common to see the younger Singer child in the library, though a time or two she had waved as she'd come in to get a comic book anthology or an art reference. 

She waved the flyer at him. It was plain white paper, black ink. Really rather boring. But she seemed excited enough that he lifted a hand and took it. "I think you'll be interested in this. So Dean said you're the Purple Haze guy, which is really awesome, by the way. But I think you need some real life experiences too. So, I think you should come to the munch." She grinned, proud of herself.

"It's a really cool, open group, and I bet if you told them you were doing research to help people play safely, lots of people there would want to talk to you." She smiled at him hopefully, and Sam blinked.

"Uh, oh... Well, that's really cool. Thanks, Jo." He really wasn't sure if he was brave enough to go. But then again, he remembered the way his mouth had gone dry at the shop when he realized Dean was probably a top. And the way that he definitely, _definitely_ wanted to get into Dean's pants. The four dates they’d been on in the last two weeks left him wanting more than a soft kiss good night. Maybe it wasn't such a bad idea to get some first-hand knowledge? "That's this week?"

"Yeah, end of the week. That's my last flyer. But I think you'd have a great time. Bring a friend, if you want. More the merrier." She smiled. "And Dean won't be there, if you're worried about that. He works late on Thursdays, because he cuts out early on Friday. So don't be like, nervous that you'll give the wrong impression or something."

Since Sam wasn't entirely sure what impression he _wanted_ to give, that was probably not a bad piece of advice. "So it's pretty casual?" The invitation seemed to be, and pretty much everything on the internet said that it would probably be, but Sam liked to be armed with as much information as possible. 

"Oh yeah, for sure. It's at Rusty's Bar, over on third. Best burgers and wings on this side of town. People will float in and out all afternoon."

"Well, I'll definitely plan to check it out." Sam smiled. "You'll be there, right?" Because he wasn't sure if he wanted to bring Gabe to something like that, or even if his friend would _want_ to go to something like that. 

"That's the plan. Actually, I'm one of the organizers. I don't really play much, or very hard, but the community is great, and I've made a lot of really great friends."

"Awesome." Sam folded the paper and stuck it in his shirt pocket. "Thanks, Jo. I really do appreciate it." He smiled. "Anything else I can help you with today?"

She grinned that impish grin, the one she shared with Dean. "Nope, don't think so." She gave him a little wave. "And hey, say hi to Dean for me when you see him tonight..." She waggled her eyebrows suggestively, cackling at the blush that crept up Sam's cheeks. "Bye, Sam!"

Sam watched her go with a bemused smile before folding the paper up and tucking it into his pocket.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dean caught sight of Benny as soon as he walked into the club. Even though it had been so long since he had come regularly, it still felt like coming home.

“Brotha!” Benny wrapped Dean in a one-armed hug. “So good to see you.”

“You, too.” Dean said, clapping the big man on the shoulder. “I saw that demo you and Andrea did last week. That was _amazing._ You two are so good together.”

Benny grinned. “Thank you, Dean. Means a lot t’ hear you say that. And to see you here again.” He hugged Dean again. “It's not the same without you around.”

Dean grinned sheepishly. “Yeah. Once I came back, I realized that I was only hurting myself. There isn't any more reason to punish myself because he's not with me.” He blew out a sigh, melancholy. “He wouldn't want that, anyway.”

“He really wouldn't,” Benny agreed. 

“I forgot this was _my_ place before it was _our_ place.”

Benny chuckled. “We've been waiting for you to come to your senses.” He patted Dean's arm and then lifted his free hand for Andrea as she emerged from the direction of the ladies rest room. 

Her tight black corset and short leather skirt accentuated the still healing black outline of her tattoo on her thigh. “Dean! Such a pleasant surprise to see you, sir,” she said with a broad smile. She slid into Benny’s embrace, but at a nod from her dom she stopped over to give Dean a firm hug.

Benny kissed her temple as she stepped back into his hold, and she nuzzled his throat briefly. “We were just talking about you the other night,” she said, reaching for the glass of coke on the table by Benny.

“Oh really? Only good things, I hope?” The familiar sounds of the club eased something in his chest, and he signalled the bartender for a beer. 

“Yes, more or less.” Andrea laughed, and Dean had to smile. Her laugh had always been contagious. “Actually, we were saying how long it's been since we had a good spanking demonstration. Rufus does the who, and we do sensation, or sometimes bondage. Lately, we've had some rotating volunteers doing rope and leather bondage, and some toy demos, but no one has ever really filled your shoes for spanking.”

Dean blinked. “Really?” Spanking was one of the most popular forms of pain play, so he couldn't imagine how they hadn't managed to fill his shoes yet. 

“Really.” Benny sipped his coke. “We've had a couple but they haven't been as good as you.” 

“Well, that's really flattering.” Dean paid the bartender for his beer, sipping it quickly. “It's been a long time since I did anything like that. I'm not sure I would do any better.”

Cas had always loved that; it pushed every one of his buttons. Some of their best nights together had been after demos. 

“Nonsense.” Benny snorted. “You're one of the best we ever had. No doubt you'd rock this crowd. Might be a good way to get back into the swing of it.”

Dean let the familiar twinge in his chest pass. That was much easier since that dream about Cas. It had felt like a benediction. “Yeah, maybe. Without Cas, though, I don't have a sub.”

Andrea perked up. “Well, sir, actually.” She hesitated briefly, but forged ahead. “We thought maybe you might demo with me. I don't mind, for something like that. And my captain,” she grinned up at Benny, eyes wide and adoring. “He _really_ likes to see me with other guys, getting all hot and bothered, but knowing I can't do anything about it until I am back with him.”

Benny nodded his agreement. “No pressure, brotha. But we thought maybe it would help you get your feet wet, and gets us a decent spanking demo. Win/win, if you ask me.”

Dean was speechless for a moment, considering. He never would have asked, but if they were offering, that was different. “Wow. You guys really put some thought into this.” He took a long swallow of beer to buy himself time to think.

“You don't have to answer right now.” Andrea leaned against Benny. “Just think about it.”

The same warm feeling that had enveloped himafter the dream touched him now, and he shook his head. “No, I don't need to. You guys are awesome. I would be honored.”

Benny grinned. “That's just what we hoped you'd say, brotha.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sam hesitated outside the bar. Inside, he knew, no one would bite. It was an informal gathering of friends, nothing to be concerned about. He knew no one would pressure him to do anything he didn’t want to, even if they themselves were into things he was unsure of. This society though with all its unspoken rules and regulations, had been enough of his life, on the fringe of his consciousness for long enough, that he really didn't think he could justify stepping away.

He took a deep breath and took the plunge. Inside, the bar was warmly lit. It wasn't one of those dingy places that had smoke in the air all day long, and no obvious drunks at the bar. In the back room he could hear talking and laughter. The bartender looked at him. "You here for the Munch?"

Sam nodded; he figured his tee shirt probably gave him away, if they did this kind of thing a lot at this bar. "Yeah." he held up his flyer. "I got an invite?"

The man pointed toward a door toward the back of the room. "Have fun, kid." He grinned, and went back to wiping things down. Sam followed where he pointed, heading to the room where all the talking could be heard. Opening the door, he was surprised to see nearly twenty people milling around the space. The lights were brighter there, and several long tables had been pushed together. A few people were eating, a few more had drinks in their hands.

He stood awkwardly against the wall next to the door; there was a reason his information all came from the internet, and not in person. He could be outgoing and gregarious when the job called for it, but in his personal life, it could really be a challenge. 

"Sam!" Jo's voice cut through the ambient noise and he looked toward her with a grin. She rushed up to him, hugging him briefly. Sam stiffened at the contact, then relaxed. He'd learned through Dean that their family was pretty touchy feely.

“Hey Jo,” he said, giving her a hug back before pulling away and glancing around. “This is… different.” He startled a little when she burst out laughing. “What?”

She gestured to his shirt. “Keep calm and be GGG? Dude that is _amazing_ and I want one. Where did you get it?”

He looked down, blushing a little. “My ‘Good, Giving and Game’ shirt? Thanks. My roommate Gabriel had it made for the anniversary of my blog,” he said, chuckling. “I could ask him where he had it done, though.”

“Please. That's awesome.” Jo looped her arm through his and drew him toward the crowd. “Now come on. Let me introduce you around.”

Her first stop was a slim man, his arm around a taller woman, her blond hair down around her face. She had a loud, boisterous laugh that put Sam immediately at ease.

“Sam, this is Garth. Garth, this is Sam.”

Sam held out a hand, smiling as warmly as he could. “Nice to meet you.”

Garth nodded, looking him up and down as he shook Sam’s hand as well. “Nice to meet you, Sam. This is my girl, Donna.” He urged her a little closer, and she held out a hand. 

“Nice to meet you,” she said, a bright smile on her face. “I love to see new faces around here! It’s just so nice to see other people exploring themselves, you know?” She shook Sam’s hand firmly, and then bounced a little on her toes.

"You're gonna really love it. Everyone here's so nice, doncha know? I mean, I felt so welcome the first time I ever walked in, and I really didn't think that I would. But then I met Garth, and well, it was history." She looked over at him adoringly, and Sam couldn't help the smile at how clearly smitten she was. "My Garth has been the best thing that's ever happened to me." 

Garth smiled and squeezed her around the waist just slightly. "Babe," he said, though there was only fondness in his tone. "You're babbling a little bit."

She flushed, and grinned over at him. "Oh. Yes. Sorry." She looked at Sam. "Sometimes I have a tendency to just go on and on, you know. Garth lets me know when I'm going over the top. He's good to me like that. Very tolerant. You know, my ex, he didn't really like it when I talked. He wasn't like Garth."

"What Donna means," Garth said, smoothly, "is that she and I match each other very well." He hugged her again, and smiled. "She never lets a silence get awkward, that's for sure." He nodded to Sam. "So you're interested in The Life, are you?"

"Uh, yeah, I am, actually," Sam said equal parts amused and slightly bemused by the conversation he'd just witnessed. He hadn't ever seen an actual dom/sub pairing in real life, and it was very enlightening. He could see how much they cared about each other, but he hadn't expected it to spill out quite so much into their interactions. "I mean, it was mostly research, when I first started. I write a blog about sex and relationships," he explained, rubbing the back of his neck self-consciously. "When I started it, I really didn't know anything about the lifestyle. It's been a learning experience the last few years."

"A blog?" Garth sounded legitimately interested, and Donna raised an eyebrow. 

"Like an online newsletter?" She seemed a little skeptical, but Sam nodded.

"Sort of. It's more like Dear Abby, but, ah, a little kinkier." He chuckled weakly. "I wouldn't know that I actually have more information than anyone else who isn't in the life? But I try to do my research, and I've talked to more than a few doms and subs in the last couple years."

"Is this your first munch?" Garth didn't seem put off by the fact that this was Sam's research as much as anything else. "I mean, it sounds like most of your time has been online research, am I right?"

Sam nodded. "Yeah, I mean, I've never really needed in person information. I always thought that I'd be okay with just being the research guy. But, ah, lately I've started to wonder more about myself and. Well. I met this guy, and I'm pretty sure that he's in the scene." He could feel himself blushing and cursed the way that his skin showed the flush so easily. "I didn't want to bring it up until I felt a little more confident in what I want."

Donna gave a little shimmy of excitement. "Oh, you've so come to the right place! I mean, really, the absolute best place. We're really welcoming here." She grinned. "You should come to the club on Thursday!"

"Thursday?" Sam was a little puzzled; Thursday really wasn't what he thought of as a prime 'clubbing' day, but maybe there was something else he still didn't know?

"Mmhm," Donna said, nodding excitedly. "Yeah, come on Thursday. We have a beginners night, and a lot of the more experienced doms or subs do demonstrations. There's all kinds of things to learn. A couple weeks ago we had a demo about shibari rope bondage, and last week they demo'd sensation play. There's really so many things to learn." She smiled. "It's a great way to get your feet wet, and no one will be upset if you ask some questions."

"Oh, that's really cool." Sam couldn't help but let his excitement show. He was the kind of guy who wanted to learn everything, even if it wasn't something that would ultimately apply to him.

Beside him, Jo grinned. "Oh yeah. This week is going to be really awesome. One of our doms is coming back from a hiatus to give a spanking demo." She shot a look at Garth and Donna, warning them to keep their mouths shut. If they were puzzled by her glance, Garth covered it well with an excited nod.

"Yeah, you'd really learn a lot. And, you know, a spanking is one of the most intimate ways you can be with someone else. You would really love it. Totally worth it."

Sam nodded. "Well that sounds really interesting," he agreed. "I mean, probably worth coming out for. Cool. I'll see what I can do." So far Dean hadn't asked to meet on Thursday, so it was probably free.

“Great!” Jo grinned and tugged Sam’s arm. “C’mon, Sam, I’ve got some other people to introduce you to.” She waved at Garth and Donna. “We’ll be back, guys.”

Sam followed docilely, letting Jo drag him along. “They are certainly interesting people.” He glanced around. Most folks had drinks in their hands, talking and joking. There were a few people like him, clearly more ill at ease, mingling more awkwardly. Jo took him straight to a knot of people. A burly man, his shirt hanging open revealing linework of an anchor on his chest, had a slim dark haired woman sitting perched on his knee. Her short shorts showed off a similar set of linework on her thigh; Sam forced himself not to linger on them. An older man, dark skinned, sipped a beer and grinned at something the burly man said. 

As they approached, he noticed them and lifted his beer. “Jo! Good to see you! Who’s your friend?”

“Guys, this is Sam. Sam, this is Benny and Rufus.” 

“Nice t’ meetcha brotha,” Benny said, tipping his beer toward Sam. “This is my girl, Andrea.” She waved, smiling warmly before leaning back against Benny’s chest. Rufus just nodded, leaning back against the table. He looked Sam over approvingly before taking a swig of his beer.

“Hi, everyone,” Sam said, waving. “Nice to meet you.”

“So what brings you around, Sam?” Rufus took a swig of his beer and smiled. “Always good to see new faces.”

“Well, to be honest, I’ve always been kind of interested. Up to this point, though, it’s been, ah… Mostly academic.” He shrugged, fighting the blush he felt creeping up his cheeks. “I run a blog, actually. But this is the first time that I’ve ever had a chance to come to a munch.”

“Well, we’re glad to have you,” Andrea said earnestly. “It’s hard to put yourself out there, I know. You said you write a blog? Is it anything we’ve read?”

Jo clapped her hands excitedly. “He writes Purple Haze! Guys, it’s practically like meeting a celebrity!”

The flush crept up Sam’s face in earnest this time, and he shrugged. It was one thing to talk to strangers at work, but it was something else entirely to talk in public like this. He actually hadn’t ever had this kind of conversation in person; it was a lot easier hidden behind his keyboard. 

“I’m not that popular,” he protested, shaking his head. “It was just a little thing I started in college.” 

“Just a little thing?” Rufus raised an eyebrow. “I beg to differ. Jo read me a couple of your pieces over the last year or so. Boy, you really do your research! I haven’t seen much in the way of thoroughly researched pieces. It’s refreshing to see someone actually take the time to learn what the hell they’re talking about.”

Sam rubbed the back of his neck, smiling weakly. “Uh, thanks? I mean, I’ve just always thought of it as part of my job. If I can get people to know the right information, why wouldn’t I share it?”

“Brotha, that makes you one in a million.” Benny tipped his beer at Sam in a small salute. “Really. I wish more people would start with actual information.” 

Sam nodded. “Well, I mean, that’s how I started. A friend asked me some advice, and when I didn’t know, I looked it up.” He chuckled. “And then before I knew it, I was practically writing an advice column anyway. My friend Gabe told me I should start a blog… And from there it snowballed.” He didn’t like to admit that he made a decent amount just off of ads, or that a few small local papers had offered to print him in their weekly advice columns. That made him feel awkward. After all, it had started, and mainly continued, for his love of learning.

“Well _I\_ think it’s awesome,” Jo said firmly. “I mean, what could be better than a one stop shop for all your kinky needs?”

“I’m glad you feel that way,” Sam said with a grin. “That kind of attitude is what keeps me in readers, after all.” He was surprised by the way that they all seemed to be willing to talk to him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dean’s stomach clenched. As much as he was excited to be back, be in his element, he knew that this was a make or break moment. It had been _so long_. He really wasn’t sure what was going to happen when he finally got back into a Scene, strap in hand. Would he chicken out? He hadn’t Scened without Cas in nearly a decade, and he fought past the feeling of wrongness to reach the anticipation. Cas wouldn’t want him to linger like he had been forever.

The soft music of the club worked its way into the private room where he was preparing for the demo. He lay out all the straps and paddles he was going to demonstrate, sorting them from least to most difficult to use properly. When they were arranged to his satisfaction, he carefully began to examine the strap and paddle that he, Benny and Andrea had agreed upon. He felt too out of practice to use too many different kinds, but he did want to give a good overview. 

He hefted the paddle in his hand, enjoying the weight of it. The test swing left it whistling through the air, kindling a heat in his belly he didn’t hesitate to embrace. This was what he wanted, what he’d been missing, and even though he only had a borrowed moment, he fully intended to appreciate it.

He set the paddle down and reached for the strap. It was a poor proxy for skin-on-skin, even though he loved the marks that were left by a paddle or a strap. Even so, there was nothing like the feeling of supple skin beneath his palm. Using his hand was still too intimate for this setting, though. He and Andrea were demonstrating, but hands were more for partners than demonstration. He might miss that rush, but even though he missed it, he wouldn’t ask something so personal of Andrea and Benny.

“Ready, Brotha?” Benny’s voice was nearly as excited as Dean felt. He hadn’t made a secret about how hot he found the idea of seeing Andrea with Dean. 

“I dunno,” Dean answered honestly, rubbing his neck with one hand. “But I guess I should find out.” He bent to open the mini-fridge against the wall, pulling out a bottle of water and cracking it open. He took a swallow to wet his suddenly dry lips, searching for the confidence he’d felt just a little bit earlier. 

Benny laughed and clapped him on the shoulder. “Brotha, you just need to get your groove back. Trust me. Once you’re on that stage, it’ll all come rushin’ back.”

“God, I hope so,” Dean said fervently before draining the rest of the bottle. “They’re turning the music down… I guess that’s my cue.”

Benny helped him lift the card table, and carefully Dean led the way out of the room. _I got this_ Dean thought to himself as they walked. _I got this._

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sam sipped his beer slowly, hunched in the small corner table at the edge of the bar. He tried to press his 6’4 frame as small as he could, to make himself less noticable He knew he had to stick out like a sore thumb. Even though he had already decided he wasn’t going to try Playing tonight, no matter who offered, he still didn’t want to be impaired. No, he intended to remember every bit of this night. To that end, he’d decided to limit himself to one beer only.

“Sam! So good to see you!” The somewhat familiar voice at his side startled him, and he turned to see that Garth and Donna had appeared at his side. They each held a drink, and the wristbands they wore proclaimed that they were non-alcoholic. Donna’s grin, reminiscent of what he’d seen at the Munch, relaxed him minutely.

“Yeah, you too.” He had to admit, it felt more natural being here with someone. Sitting by himself had felt uncomfortably like being on display. As though he had a neon sign flashing ‘Newbie!’ Everyone around him seemed to know everyone else, and they danced a social dance he truly only had the barest of understanding of the steps. 

“Settling in okay?” Garth had real concern in his eyes, and Sam smiled.

“Yeah, yeah. Rufus remembered me.” He chuckled weakly; it had been strange to see Rufus in leather straps and his imposing boots, but he’d been friendly enough as he checked Sam off the list. “This is… Different than I expected, somehow.” A researcher at heart, Sam had talked to a lot of people about what clubs were like, but that didn’t prepare him for the reality of it. 

Donna nodded sagely. “Yes, it does take some getting used to.” She smiled, following his gaze to where he was trying desperately not to stare. A tall, slim man had a proprietary hand sliding up and down another man’s thigh. The leather pants he wore left very little to the imagination, and the glint of barbells from his bare chest as alluring.

Sam’s mouth went dry at the thought of piercing himself, of being in a similar position. Feeling so _owned_ was just a potential benefit he hadn’t quite examined yet. He tore his eyes away as the man dropped to his knees, resting his head on his dom’s thigh. Suddenly he felt even more intrusive.

He began to pick the label off his beer, dropping damp paper to the tabletop until Garth set a warm hand on his wrist. “Hey, Sam.” He smiled reassuringly when Sam looked up. “It’s alright. I know it can take a little adjustment, but don’t you worry. Everything’s fine.” There was a hint of steel in his voice, and suddenly Sam could see what Donna saw in the little man. A fire that was definitely reassuring. 

“Thanks.” Suddenly the music shut off and Sam looked up, startled. “What’s that?”

Garth’s hand on his wrist turned to a firm grip and he tugged Sam to his feet. “C’mon! The demonstration is starting, and you’ll want to get a good view. At least front and center. These guys put on a great show!”

Sam swallowed a swig of beer and let himself be pulled forward toward the mass of people. “What are they demoing tonight?” After all, hadn’t Jo wanted him to come so that he could see the demos?

Garth grinned. “C’mon. He gives the best spanking demonstrations! If you were on the fence about whether or not you’d be into a spanking, this will set that to rest. If you don’t know before, you will after.” Sam let himself be drawn closer to the gathering crowd, watching as Benny and another man carried out a long table covered with a variety of implements. 

They set the table up in silence, and then the music stopped. “Hello, everyone.” That was Rufus’ voice, catching everyone’s attention. “Thank you for your attention. Tonight is a very exciting night for all of us. We are going to have our first spanking demo in nearly six months. I would like you all to welcome back mister Dean Singer.” 

There was a smattering of applause, but Sam couldn’t tear his eyes away from Dean. He couldn’t believe the man standing next to Rufus was Dean, but then, who else could it be? _This_ was a Dean he’d never seen. Yes, in his shop he had been in charge, but this was a whole different level of confidence that he’d never seen. 

“Thank you, Rufus.” Dean stepped forward, scanning the crowd. He smiled, and despite its warmth the look made Sam’s neck prickle. It was a predator’s smile, showing that Dean was going to own them all. “It’s good to be back, guys.” He nodded to Benny, who pulled up a chair at the end of the stage, just in the edge of line of sight.

Andrea stepped up beside Dean, her head bowed demurely. “Today,” Dean said. “We’re going to be demonstrating the fine art of the spanking. Now, you don’t need a lot of equipment. A belt or a hand will do. Other popular items include a soft slipper, or a hairbrush.”

He paused in his pacing across the stage, stroking a hand down Andrea’s flank. He was glad they had discussed their safewords earlier; now that he was in the groove, he just wanted to keep going. Dean had forgotten how it felt to have all the eyes in the room on him.

“You all know the basics of play; if you don’t, talk to one of us! But Andrea and I have discussed this, so we’re going to go ahead and get started.” He turned to her, and nodded to the chaise set up for her. “Go kneel there.” It was set up so Benny could meet her eyes the whole time. Dean approved; it felt right to have Benny participating, and eased his concerns about his involvement with his friend’s wife.

“The first implement I will be using will be a paddle. Paddles give a nice, even warmth to the skin, and are usually easiest to use without inadvertently causing damage.”

He scanned the crowd again, and his voice stuttered for a moment. Sam. What the hell was Sam Winchester doing _here_? Only Jo, he suspected, had something to do with it. He pushed that thought out of his mind, and tried to ignore the hot surge of _want_ flaring in his belly. Suddenly his demo meant something else entirely. If Sam were here, Dean really hadn’t been reading him wrong.

He hefted the paddle, and stroked down Andrea’s bare bottom. Her thong left everything delightfully available to his touch, and he gave a quick check for open cuts or scabs on her skin. Even knowing that Benny would have been extra careful with her before they participated in this didn’t stop Dean’s protective streak. “It’ behooves you to start from the top and work your way down,” he said, and gave the paddle a good swing. It landed with a satisfying ‘thwap’, and Andrea squirmed a moment before she settled again. Dean grinned.

“Of course, mixing it up and surprising your sub can be very satisfying, too.” He began in earnest, covering every inch of her buttocks, down to the crease of her thighs, in smooth, firm strokes. Each landed with an equal thud, until she really couldn’t stay settled in one place. Dean’s attention was split, however. Part of him watched Andrea, but his eye strayed to where Sam stood, bracketed by Garth and Jo.

Sam’s mouth went dry as Dean began the spanking. He could see Andrea taking it, every blow Dean landed without complaint. She squirmed a little, but from the angle where he stood, Sam could see her face; it was pain contorted with pleasure. 

“Damn.” Sam flushed bright red when he realized _he_ had just said that. “That’s… Somethin’ else.”

Garth nodded. In his arms, Donna was squirming a little bit, her eyes glazed over as she watched Dean methodically work.

A few long minutes later, Dean set down the paddle and lifted a wide leather strap. Sam’s eyes were riveted to it; it was only a little thicker than the belt Dean had been wearing the day that Sam got tattooed. Once again the idea of Dean bringing that belt into play flashed across his mind, and Sam realized he was hopelessly hard. He whimpered, squirming just a little.

Dean gave his spiel about the benefits of a strap as clearly as he could. He pushed Sam away from his thoughts, and focused on the feel of the strap in his hand, and the way that Andrea was moving so beautifully in front of him. She was a gorgeous partner, and he realized as he brought the strap across her ass for the fifth time, that Benny had been right. _This_ was so important, something he _needed_ , like air. He felt alive, as though every inch of him was vibrating so hard he might fall apart.

The rest of the demo passed in a blur. Andrea submitted beautifully to the strap, the paddle, and after a brief whispered conference with her and Benny, they had added a crop as well. She stood and let Dean show each type of mark, shivering slightly under his touch before allowing Benny to bundle her away to the back to the private room waiting for them.

Sam stood against the wall, wishing, not for the first time, that he weren't quite so large. Jo had disappeared somewhere, and Garth and Donna had migrated away from him a little ways. Dean was clearly searching the crowd, standing on the stage with a hungry look in his eye. “Everything alright, Sam?”

Garth’s voice drew him out of his stupor, and Sam cleared his throat. “Uh. Yeah, yeah, it’s fine, man.” He swallowed hard. “Just… A little more intense than I thought, that’s all.”

“Oh, it is,” Garth agreed, nodding. He patted Sam’s hand. “Hey, there’s Dean! I bet he could answer any questions you have! Hey, Dean! Over here!” He waved excitedly, before Sam could stop him, and the moment Dean’s gaze landed on him, Sam knew it was over.

“Hello, Garth,” Dean said as he approached them through the crowd. Everyone had parted for him as he stepped off the stage; every inch of him screamed _submit to me!_ , and even the other doms hadn’t dared step in his way. “Sam.”

“You two know each other?” Garth grinned. “Great! That means I don’t need to do introductions! Sam here was just saying how much he liked your demo.” Garth’s grin turned a little teasing as Sam fought the urge to splutter. After all, he _had_ liked it.

“Is that so?” Dean stepped closer to Sam; too close, in his personal space. He smelled of leather, and musk, and Sam swore he could feel the heat of his chest even from inches away. “I’m glad you liked it.”

Sam ducked his head a little bit, not quite sure how to respond. “I… Yes,” he admitted finally. “It was very enlightening.”

“Ooh, enlightening.” Dean’s voice was low, enticing. “Never played with someone that way before?” He lifted a hand, letting it run down Sam’s arm softly. Sam shivered.

“No, sir,” he said, and then ducked his head again. Where did that come from? They weren’t in a scene, hadn’t discussed nomenclature. But then, things with Dean rarely made sense. It felt right, and when he dared to glance up, Dean’s eyes were considering.

“Well.” Dean wrapped an arm around Sam’s waist. He pulled him tight against his side, leaning in to whisper in his ear. “I think you’d look absolutely gorgeous tied to my bed… Waiting for whatever I have to give you.”

Sam shivered. “I…” He knew he couldn’t go home with anyone tonight. He just couldn’t. But this was Dean, and Dean was… _Dean_. “That sounds really good,” he managed.

Dean grinned, and nipped Sam’s ear. “I agree,” he said, his hand sliding down to palm Sam’s ass. “How about… Saturday? Dinner and a movie, and you for dessert?”

The low rumble of his voice against his chest made Sam bite back a groan, and he shivered again. “I’ve always been a dessert first kind of guy, sir,” He managed, grinning when Dean laughed. 

 

“Well. How about tomorrow we have a coffee and discuss some things, and see if we can’t make that happen?”

Sam swallowed hard as he was assaulted with all the ways this could go so, so very right. He grinned and nodded. “Yessir,” he said eagerly. “You’ve got a date.”


End file.
